


Livewires

by DigitalSpectre



Series: Shock and Awe [1]
Category: overwatch
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Other, Polyamory, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-30 16:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 53,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalSpectre/pseuds/DigitalSpectre
Summary: You are an Inventor who resides in Junkertown. When you were younger, you had a crush on a man who called himself Junkrat. Well. Boy at the time. Now you’re an adult, and he’s banned from Junkertown. You don’t know how anyone could mess up that bad, but you reside well within the comfort of the Queen’s graces. You’ve never known her wrath. But when you catch eye of Junkrat and Roadhog and realize you didn’t grow out of your crush, you just might.





	1. Hail to the Queen

The world is a mess. At least, the world outside of your workshop is a mess. Wars, chaos, nightmares. Your homeland was steeped in chemicals and poison. Your city is a mismatch of rusted metal and duct tape. But your workshop is pristine. The shelves are all neatly organized. There’s not a single thing out of place. Every bolt, screw, scrap of metal, neatly laid out and labeled. There’s barely any dirt, and the rust has been thoroughly scrubbed away. It’s pristine, or as pristine as anything could be in the middle of Junkertown.

You live a comfortable life. You rarely leave Junkertown; anything you want is brought to you. And anything you want is brought to you because you are so lucky as to have the favor of Junkertown’s Queen. She likes you, so the town likes you. In exchange, you build her whatever she wants. Most of the time she just wants another battlebot, whether to pilot herself or something that’ll spin around with blades while junkers beat on it for her amusement. You don’t really care what she does with your bots. You’re more concerned with your own inventions. You do a little of everything, as long as it’s mechanical. Prosthetics, weapons, household goods, traps. Anything.

You’re working on a leg right now. It’ll be sturdy, smooth, and self-balancing. Whoever tries to knock over the lucky recipient will have a hard time of it. You’re not sure who will get it; you put out a notice that you were interested in building a prosthetic this week and took the first letter that came through your door. You tore down the notice immediately after, not really paying attention to anyone else.

It wasn’t charity, but it also wasn’t, not charity. You weren’t charging. You just didn’t care who was getting it. You wanted to work on a prosthetic. Wanted to make one that was better. You wanted the work. Sometimes you wondered if that made you a bad person. That you didn’t care. But then you shrugged it off. This was Junkertown. This was Australia. This was Life. There wasn’t any niceness or kindness. There was money. There was power. There was satisfaction. And then you fucking died. So it just didn’t matter that you weren’t concerned with anyone but yourself. Because no one was concerned with you. And that was just fucking fine.

You didn’t want anyone to care about you.

That was messy, and useless, and that’s how you got yourself killed. Or worse. That’s how you get yourself kicked out of Junkertown. You got messy and you became useless or you caused some sort of hell. And then you were out there in the wastes. At least in here you had water and food. Sometimes you had gold but usually you just gave it to the queen. You got everything you wanted and it made her like you more. Her affection was the only one that benefited you. And it was fairly distant. Just like you liked it.

It was actually pretty hard to get kicked out of Junkertown. All you had to do was give the Queen money. That’s it. Didn’t even have to be a lot. Sure, she was particularly pleased by large amounts of treasure, or top-notch performers in the scrap heap. But really. Give her some money. That’s it.

There were few people that actually did something bad enough to get banned. You never knew what it was. Never cared. Not even for… Well, when you were a kid you had a crush. Like all foolish kids do. Before the world taught you real good that connecting with other people was bullshit. You liked this one guy. He was wild. Had explosives everywhere. His hair was on fire. When you were younger you thought he was the most exciting thing you had ever seen. You were so easily enraptured by his explosives, even when one almost burned down your building. You rarely talked to him and had been well into your ‘lock yourself in your workshop’ stage when he’d got himself kicked out of town. Junkrat. You had bad taste as a kid. Now you were a grown ass adult who knew better. About everyone, really. It wasn’t that Junkrat himself was bad, though if he got himself kicked out of Junkertown he clearly was. It was more than everyone was bad. You needed to just look after yourself.

You gave the leg a final polish, stepping back to look at it. Beautiful. Perfect. Flawless. Well, as flawless as you can get when most of your materials come from rusted ruins. You gently package the leg into a crate, opening your workshop door to flag down a delivery boy. As you handed him the crate and the address, another messenger came up to you. They handed you an Official Edict from the Queen. 

It seemed she wanted you to install some shiny new defense turrets on the outside gates. You shrugged. Probably got some trouble from the little shacks that clustered outside hoping to get a ticket back into town.

You gathered your tools, picking through your shelves to find a few turrets that would do the job. Simple, single shot bots. You would build them little housing units that guards could open and close on a whim. You wish you didn’t have to install them yourself though. You hated leaving your workshop. Surrounded by a sea of untrustworthy faces. Each one of them waiting to stab you in the damn back. Waiting to stab each other in the damn back. You shrugged, making the Queen’s messenger help you carry your equipment through town. You shooed the guards away, down the stairs. You didn’t need any company to do the Queen’s work. Made you uncomfortable.

It was pleasantly quiet at the gates. Maybe it was because the angry men with guns at the bottom of the stairs were keeping people away. Or maybe this was one of the rare spots in all of Junkertown that was actually peaceful. You liked your shop better. But this was, okay.

You worked in silence, trying to pretend you were back in your workshop. But it was so much hotter out here. If it weren’t for the Queen. Hopefully, she would reward you with something nice. What would you ask for? Maybe something sweet. Chocolate could be hard to come by. You could do with a bar or two. Maybe just one, this wasn’t that bad. It was some uncomfortable welding and a few wires hooked into their little power boxes. One bar.

You reached out for your water, lifting the bottle to squirt some on your head before you resumed welding the turret into its stand. A hook came out of nowhere, yanking the bottle out of your hand and a string of curses from your mouth as you accidentally knock one of your good pair of pliers down to the ground below. You stood up, pulling your rifle into your hand. 

“What the fuck?” You shouted.

“Hey, never seen you around before. Where’d you come from?” A voice shouted back. You kept your rifle leveled at the speaker. He was tall, dressed in a harness and a pair of shorts, like that was adequate. Missing a leg and an arm. A lot different than you remember but the man’s unmistakable. His hair is even on fire. Fucking Junkrat. And the hulking mass behind him, shaking your water bottle, must be Roadhog.

“What are you talkin’ about I’ve-” You stop yourself. What are you doing. You don’t, chat. Not with anyone. Certainly not with people banned by the Queen. You bite your lip and drop, slamming your rifle onto the ground next to you. You grab your welding torch and get back to work. The sooner you finish this, the sooner you can leave.

“Oi! Come back, I wanna talk to ya.” Junkrat shouted. You huffed, finishing your weld and loading the turret with ammo. You double checked the power supply and nodded. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Perhaps you should activate it now, give them a little test. A hook shot back up clinging against the wall not too far from your head. Oh yes. You should definitely test them now. You stand up, glaring over the metal half wall. Junkrat was closer, wiggling your pliers at you.

“Go away! The Queen’s requested turrets. I’m going to test them. If you’re still moving in front of the gates in 30 seconds, you’ll be the test subjects.” You shout, waving them away. You drop as the hook comes back. You could feel the air whistle above your head as it came and went. Too close. When you looked up Junkrat and Roadhog were both gone. You shudder, pressing the buttons on each of the turrets, smiling when their housing doors open and they begin to swing, searching for targets. You closed them up again, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and carrying your tools back down the stairs.

“Done. Could you tell the queen that I’ve requested some chocolate? Doesn’t need to be much. I don’t need spoiling.” 

It’s not till you get back to your workshop that you remember. Those fuckers still had your pliers. Damn it.


	2. Any Hike is an Unpleasant One

You liked to wake up early. Before the bulk of the city woke up. It was so quiet, so peaceful. There was only the rarest, quiet noise far away from you. You grab the remote on your nightstand, pressing a button. In a moment, a machine produces a cup of coffee, sweetening it with an almost unholy amount of condensed milk. You liked caffeine. Disliked coffee. It was, so bitter. Like gargling gasoline. Another press of a button and you were brought a few slices of buttered toast. The perfect breakfast.

Your entire home was filled with automated machines. Everything took care of itself. The kitchen automatically cooked simple foods. The dishes did themselves. The floor was swept, the window washed, the bed made. It had taken you a long time to build everything and set it up, but finally, your home was exactly what you wanted it to be. Your own secure little palace. Nothing got in that you didn’t want in. Anything that tried? Died. You rarely wanted anything in.

You hummed as you walked down into your workshop. Today, you were going to start working on a project for the queen. She wanted a new attachment for her battle bot, something different, something fun. You chose an acid spray. But it had glitter in it. So that would be. Fun. As long as the Queen liked it nothing else mattered.

You laid out all of the parts on one of your work tables and then began to collect the tools you would need on a tray. A welder. A few wrenches. Some clamps. You needed both regular and needle nose… Pliers? Shit. Your best pliers went over the balcony edge. Those were high quality too, nothing would break them. Well, almost nothing. You’re sure that someone could if they tried hard enough. You last saw them… in Junkrat’s hands. If anyone could break them it was probably going to him.

You could ask the Queen for a new pair, but she had given you a full box of chocolate bars after you installed the turrets. You didn’t want to ask for something else so soon. The only other solution was to try to get them back from Junkrat. And like hell you were going to leave your workshop.

You opened your drone storage room, carefully pulling out one of your basketball sized drones. You slid on the carrying attachment, writing a polite letter. Which wasn’t polite. It was more along the lines of, “give me back my fucking pliers you fuck.” and a few threats. You opened the window, setting the coordinates and letting your drone fly away. You closed the window and resumed working, making do with your larger pliers while you waited for the drone to come back. When the sun began to set you checked your switchboard of active drones. It was, of course, not active.

Those fucks blew up your drone. You bit back a growl and got out another drone. Another note and you let it out the window. That was it for the day. You closed up your shop, not that it was ever technically open. You kept that door locked up tight. You also had another series of thick steel doors protecting the stairs to your apartment upstairs. You climbed up, grumbling into the kitchen as you put together the bare minimum for dinner. You were too tired to get fancy with it. Too annoyed. They were just pliers. You weren’t going to lose many of your drones before you just gave up on them. Perhaps it was time for a new pair.

Right before you went to bed you heard a tapping at your upstairs window. The one glass one in your entire house. A real luxury. You opened it and your drone flew in, depositing a note on your table before returning to sleep mode. You picked it up and sighed.

“Fuckin’ come get it then!” written in the worse handwriting you had ever seen in your entire life. And you lived in Junkertown. Good handwriting was practically outlawed. You had a permit for that shit.

Or rather, you had a leather cuff. It was sturdy and thick, and in the center was a shiny silver circle. Stamped into the center of the circle was the Queen’s insignia. The cuff had a single message. Fuck Off. You were one of the Queen’s favorites. No one was to tell you no. No one was to bother you. No one was to go anywhere near you, really. It was the greatest protection you could get in the world. You only took it off to bathe. In the morning you secured it to your wrist and headed back down to your shop with your drone in hand.

You took off the carrying attachment, switching it out for a powerful taser. Thinking about it, you activated three more of your drones, giving two more tasers. The third one got a toxic gas. Just in case. You slung your rifle over your shoulder and stalked out of your safe house. You got a few weird looks as you walked to the gate. Mostly for the drones quietly buzzing around you. Robots of any kind were generally contained in the scrap yard. 

You had never been outside of Junkertown. It was death outside. Miles of desolate wasteland. A tiny collection of the wretched huts of whoever was foolish enough to piss off the Queen. You followed your drone to the largest, and the furthest one. You stopped and stared at it.

It was just a pair of pliers. Why were you here? Why were you outside of the safety of the walls? Or hell. Why were you outside the safety of your shop? This was unnecessary and foolish, and just a huge waste of time. You clenched and unclenched your fists. Might as well get it over with. You were out here. Just get the pliers. Walk back. No conversation, no friendliness. Just business. You lifted your hand to knock on the door, jumping when it flew open.

Junkrat grinned at you, leaning against the doorframe. He didn’t look armed. But he probably was. Everyone was. Again. Junkertown.

“G’morning.”

His harness was missing, his chest bearing clear tanlines from wearing it constantly. His hair wasn’t currently on fire, but it was early enough in the morning. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten to it yet. You centered your eyes on his face, not that you had any desire to look anywhere else, and glared.

“You still have my pliers?” You ask, putting as much annoyance into your voice as you could.

“Maybe I do. Whatcha gonna give me for ‘em?” Junkrat’s smile widens. Your lip curls into a snarl.

“I’ll give you your teeth if you don’t give it back.” You take a single step forward and Roadhog appeared behind Junkrat, massive shotgun in hand.

“Who are you to be talkin’ to me like that.” Junkrat steps closer until he’s almost touching you. His eyes are, really vivid up close. Fuck him. Fuck him and his vivid eyes. You hate eye contact. That’s why you’re set to spend your entire lifetime in a nearly-windowless shop with all the doors closed and locked.

“I’m _her_ Mechanic.” You hiss, fighting to not take a step back. You raise your wrist and lit the silver bit flash in the sunlight. “I need those pliers to work on a project for _Her_. She knows where I am. And if I don’t get back to work soon, _she’ll_ come looking.”

Junkrat’s smile loses its edge, but also some of its light. A bitterness seeps through him and he shrugs. “Well. Can’t keep you then, can we?”

He disappears, leaving you awkwardly staring down Roadhog. He’s a giant of a man. You can understand why Junkrat would want to work with him. That mask is fucking creepy though. Was it even necessary when he was that strong? Even someone like you heard the stories. You stared past him, pretending like you didn’t even notice him there. Junkrat came back quickly enough, tossing your pliers at your face.

“Thanks for lettin’ me borrow ‘em.” His grin is back. You huff, turning and letting your drones escort you back to Junkertown. You’re never leaving again.


	3. You do what you want

The Queen has been delighted with you ever since your new attachment swept through an entire tournament of competitors for her. You have, in the past month, received: new tools, actual real honey, bonus water allotments, and a crate of soft new clothes. You asked for none of it but were thrilled to receive all of it. This was what it meant to serve the Queen. You could struggle, and argue, and fight, and come out with a few scraps of metal and half a bottle of dirty pond water. Or you could smile and build, and relax in your sunny room with honey drizzled toast and fresh tea. You were living in the height of Australian luxury. 

You hummed along to a quiet stereo system as you went about your monthly deep clean. You lived in a dirt-covered city and machines could only do so much. Plus you had all that extra water. You could steam the shit out of everything. The entire shop would be disinfected. You almost swooned at the thought. It was relaxing in its own way. Repetitive, simple motions that took little thought. You were able to zone out, enjoy the music, enjoy the morning. You only had so much time before you had to do the monthly maintenance checks on the entry gate turrets.

You hated the checks. Not because of the work itself, that you enjoyed. There was nothing better than working on machinery. Although working by machinery alone in your workshop was preferable to working on machinery on a balcony with fucking Junkrat shouting from down below. He wasn’t there every time, but he still showed up enough to make it clear he knew the schedule. The two of you would shout insults at each other while you checked for imperfections and oiled parts. It was noisy and dusty and frankly, you would rather it not happen. Hopefully this would be one of the days that he was busy. Doing whatever it is he did. You could do your work quick and run back home for some peace and relaxation.

A messenger was hovering in your doorway, nervously looking at your turrets. You peered through the tiny slot in your door and grumbled. “What is it?”

“There was a, a problem. The turrets are, exploded. You need to replace them.” The messenger announced. You sighed. So much for a nice quiet day of cleaning and tea. You could still take a bath when you got back though. So that was nice. 

“Go get me someone to help me carry things. At least 3 people.” You snap, stomping to your storage room with a huff. You had been building bigger, multi-barrel turrets as a surprise present for the Queen’s throne room. They were done, you just hadn’t gotten around to showing them to her yet. Now they were less of a present and more of an over-achieving way of solving the new problem. You carefully carried both of them two the door, cautiously opening it to the small group waiting for you.

“Carry these to the balcony. Do not drop them. Do not bump them.” You don’t even look at them as you grab the metal sheeting you need to weld together the housings. You hand those sheets to the last person waiting, following behind with your tools and drones. You hoped their hands were clean. Probably weren’t. The Queen wouldn’t care much if her new turrets had smudges but you certainly did. And isn’t that why she kept you around?

Your precious turrets were just. Destroyed. You immediately threw a suspicious glance out at the gathering of shacks, looking for a particular asshole who would just love pissing you off. There was nothing. Must not be in town. You did notice the tattered remains of steel and wood littering the path to the gates. You shifted your anger to the guards, aware of the heavy welding tool in your hands. They scooted back down the stairs. Good. Assholes.

You made short work of tearing down the old turrets, collecting whatever parts could be cleaned and re-used and dropping the rest to the ground below. Your anger faded as you worked. A growing sense of pride replaced it. These were magnificent. You had to make more for the throne room. You could even see an ideal set up, a circle of defensive turrets. Maybe even some in the scrap yard. The Queen would love to be able to unleash bullets on unimpressive competitors at the press of a button. It would take months to build all of them. Months alone, in your workshop, with no one to bother you. No unrelenting heat, no noise. No hook flying at you, the chain looping around your waist and dragging you off the balcony. 

Fuck.

You let your guard down. How sloppy. Just because you finished some excellent work and were enjoying the finished product. Like you didn’t have to watch the area. Your little drones took off after you, readying charges. They fired their little wire bolts, dropping Roadhog into a twitching pile on the road. Asshole. You flailed your way out of his chain, checking yourself for any damage. The leather armor the Queen insisted you wear was greatly appreciated.

“Why’d you do that for?” Junkrat appeared out of nowhere, gently prodding Roadhog. “If you hurt him I’ll kill ya. Nice face or no.”

“He’s fine. I haven’t upgraded these drones yet. Maybe he shouldn’t have fucking hooked me.” You snarled. You checked the ground to make sure you hadn’t dropped any useful tools and moved to stomp back to Junkertown. Junkrat chuckled and jumped in front of you.

“Hey hey where ya goin’? If you’re down here, might as well stay for a bit.” He rested his launcher on his shoulder, apparently content that his friend wasn’t dead. Which was a pity. You would have to upgrade those drones soon.

“For what? To collect dirt? I’ve got enough dirt, thanks.” Your face was twisted into a haughty snarl. You were aware, in the back of your mind, that you were being a bit...snotty. Which was fair. Maybe you were. But you also didn’t want to get dragged away from your work. And you also didn’t like them. Or anyone. Your like list was limited to “The Queen” and “Yourself”. Which was what everyone’s list should be.

“What dirt?” Junkrat put a hand to his chest like he was honestly offended. You rolled your eyes and waved your finger towards him.

“I don’t know, maybe that dir-” You squinted, noticing a familiar black liquid dripping down his metal arm. “Is that damaged.”

“Wha?” Junkrat looked around. You lunged, grabbing his arm and taking a look. Definitely dripping oil. But from where? The whole fucking prosthetic was covered in dirt and grime and who knows what this substance is. You glared up at Junkrat who was watching you with a surprisingly benign expression. 

“You have tools don’t you.” Probably gross, disgusting, poorly kept tools. But you weren’t climbing up the gate just to come back down with yours.

“Well yeah of course I do, how d’ya think I-” Junkrat started to answer; you cut him off once you got your answer and started dragging him after you. You didn’t care what he had to say. But you were going to fix that arm. Maybe even take note of its construction. There could be something you didn’t know. Or an idea you hadn’t tried. Or the revelation that it wasn’t built of metal at all but entirely comprised of soot and bad decisions. 

Junkrat was talking to you. The whole time. About what, you don’t know. You drown him out with your own internal chorus of cursing. You were tempted to order your drones to tase him, but then you’d have to carry him. Or drag him. That would just cause more damage to the arm. You scowled as Junkrat gave a tug, nearly pulling you off your feet. He was stronger than he looked. Scrawny bastard.

“Gotta disable the security!” He chirped, fucking chirped, and leaned down, pulling a thin almost invisible wire. You heard a distinctive click and he opened the door. You followed him in, glancing at the door frame. Explosives. What a surprise.

“Want me to take it off?” 

“What?” You scowled at him. He pointed at his arm and you sighed. “Yeah. Where are your tools?”

“Ta da! Careful near the bike. Hog’ll kill us both if you mess with it.” Junkrat slapped his prosthetic down onto a workbench. You winced and distracted yourself by examining their, vehicle. It was so… classic? Old. It was old. And outdated. But better than most of what the rest of the country had. There looked to be parts ready to fly off and yet, most of it seemed sturdy. It didn’t need your help. Not like the arm that just got even more damaged.

You wondered why he even had steel wool. You couldn’t build bombs with it, and that was supposedly his expertise. Maybe he could. Didn’t matter. You didn’t want to know anything about him besides how his arm functioned. That was it. You stood hunched over the arm, your back and shoulders growing tenser the longer you fiddled. But it was dirty. So you had to clean it. Then you could see the source of the damage, a small hose had gotten loose. That was it. That was the only issue. The arm was sturdy, well made. And now it was clean, and the hose was back in place. You fiddled a bit more, jumping when you glanced to the side and realized how close Junkrat was.

“Fucking! What!” You shrieked. Though if anyone asked you yelled. Shouted maybe. In a very tough manner.

“Why are ya doin’ this.” He was leaning on the workbench, head in hand, watching. Unsettlingly close. Why didn’t your drones electrocute him for that? Clearly they needed adjustments to their targeting. Maybe when you put in the new tasers.

“I do what I want.” You sniffed. He stood up and tapped your cuff.

“Even though Queenie wouldn’t like it?”

You slapped his hand away, motioning to the table. “Her turrets are done, that’s what she cares about. I’m going back. You, put your arm back on. And then go fuck yourself with it.”

You ignored the burst of delighted laughter and walked out with as much dignity as you can muster. You narrowed your eyes on Roadhog’s approaching form and kept walking. 

“I just saved you from hours of… Conversation.” You spat the last word like it was something fuzzy on your tongue. “So don’t go gettin’ mad at me.” 

Roadhog said nothing, tilting his head to listen to Junkrat’s laughter. Your drones circled around you, the charges sparking and ready for deployment. You were relieved that it wasn’t actually necessary. You didn’t want to get into a fight with a man who could clearly snap you in half with one hand. 

You slammed your fist against the gate, watching behind you to make sure nobody tried to run in. The guards didn’t really ask you how you ended up out there and you didn’t want to talk about it. You wanted to double check the turrets, activate them, and go home to your bath. You were covered in grime. Next time you would bring gloves, and-

Next time? What fucking next time. You weren’t going anywhere next time. You were going to barricade your workshop door and spend the rest of your life camped out in your bathtub. Why would you ever want to leave Junkertown again? Especially with those two out there. It was a good way to get yourself blown up. Or worse. Banned. You would never survive without the Queen. Never.


	4. Queen's Orders

When the Queen calls, you come. Regardless of what time she calls, where she wants you to go, what she wants you to do. She calls. You go. Your loyalty to her has never been questioned. She was the Queen. You put her first and foremost and made it clear what your priorities were. You didn’t love her. Love didn’t exist in the wasteland. Or anywhere, in your opinion. But you were loyal and obedient. That counted for far more than love ever could.

You came with turrets in hand, installing them in her throne room and handing her the controls with a slight bow. She gave your cheek a pat and sat you down in a small chair next to her throne, pulling on you until you leaned against one of her armrests. You don’t bother attempting conversation. It’s not why you’re there. You’re there as a show of the Queen’s power and wealth. How many people she has running at her beck and call. On her other side two beautiful people sit, one leaning on the other armrest, the other smiling at the assembling crowd. Another one of the Queen’s favorites sits beside you, posing for the people. You don’t bother posing. You’re not there to look pretty; you aren’t pretty. But you are there to be gawked at.

Few people know what you look like or who you are. Aside from the few times you’ve left your workshop with drones, you’re a mystery. You’re something only the Queen has access to. That makes you different. That makes you desirable. People want to look at you because they usually can’t. You hate it. But she loves it. So you look at the crowd as though they bore you. As though the only thing worth your time is the Queen. You’re her cat, her very angry, mechanically inclined cat.

The eyes feel like oil on your skin. Raw, thick, slimy. You let your rage manifest as disdain, leaning closer to her, eyes shifting over the battle bots and their operators. You could see who was going to win. The biggest, most imposing looking bot was too stiff. Too much had gone into making it sturdy, too many screws to keep everything from falling apart. A smaller, meaner looking set-up with longer arms was going to easily tear it to pieces. You murmured your prediction to the Queen, who smiled and waved down a bet taker to place bets on your word. If she wins, or rather, when she wins, she’ll be very pleased with you. Which was the only reason you were there.

Another competitor had the best guns, but that mech was crumpled to the side while a team scurried around it and tried to bring it back. You could help. But the Queen didn’t send you towards them. She kept you close, fingertips tracing the medallion on your cuff. You paused in your glaring to soften your expression and let the ghost of a smile appear on your lips as you looked at her. Make it clear she was different. Make it clear she was better. Glory to the Queen.

The fight went as you expected. The broken one didn’t get going. The smaller one destroyed the larger one. The mech pilot stood on top of the machine, throwing her arms into the air proudly. The crowd applauded and cheered. The Queen took your hand and kissed it, standing to congratulate the winner.

You couldn’t wait to get out of here. You felt crowded. Surrounded. Filthy. It would take hours of hot water and scraping to wash the stares off. You fought against the urge to grumble and growl at the crowd. Your lips were forced into a smug smile and you watched them drag off the pieces of the destroyed mech. The pilot looked like they might make it to another day. Another chance to impress the Queen.

The Queen took her winnings and you in hand and guided you to her treasure vault. She carelessly tossed the bag onto a pile and swept you around.

“Tell me again about your little adventure outside the walls, love?” The Queen purred, spinning you in a lazy twirling waltz.

“I got hooked by those filthy wretched assholes, had to listen to them talk for longer than any human being should, and now I have a strict rule of not taking my rifle off my back when working.” You grumble. She smiled and released one of your hands, twirling you like a top. 

“But you weren’t frightened?” 

“Not with you protecting me. You are the most frightening thing this world has to offer. Everything else better fuckin’ run.” The Queen smiles when you say this and you know you’ve pleased her. She pulls you with her, through one of her private ‘secret’ pathways that weave through Junkertown.

The Queen is quiet, which concerns you. She’s never really quiet. Always murmuring or shouting, to you and to the crowd. Even in the pathways she talks, usually about the glory of Junkertown and the power of survival. But right now, she’s quiet. Thinking of what she wants you to do. You’re nervous. Hopefully it’s just more of those turrets. What else could she want?

“I’ve got a job for you, my favorite Tinkerer.”

“Anything for you.” You promise.

“A large plane crashed down over the wastelands. Carrying all sorts of interesting things. I need someone I can trust to go get me what I’m owed.” She brushed a hand against your cheek. “Will you go for me? Bring me back something useful?”

It wasn’t a question. You really, really weren’t happy. But that wasn’t a damn question. She was the Queen. You served the Queen. And you would do what she said if you wanted to keep having a home and comfort. You gave a confident smile, taking the Queen’s hand from your cheek and kissing it. “Of course, my Queen. Like I said, anything for you.”

The two of you exited the tunnel not too far from your workshop. The Queen guided you to your front door and smiled. “I know you won’t let me down, love. You have an eye for quality, for doing things right the first time. I’ll send you a map tomorrow morning, set out first thing. You don’t want to be out in the wasteland for long.”

You smile and nod, entering your workshop and turning to watch her walk away. You didn’t close your door until she was out of sight. Your fingers were shaking as you locked it. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You couldn’t. You couldn’t go out into. But you had to. Because she ordered you to. Why you? What did you do wrong? Unless she really did trust you?

But no. No one trusted anyone. Trust was pointless, everyone was out for themselves. That was the main rule of Junkertown, the main rule of life. You pulled your new taser attachments off the shelf, grabbing as many drones as you could. You needed to prepare them quickly. Before you went out there to die. Was she going to give you a vehicle, or just a map? You shuddered. It was getting hard to breathe. You crouched down, wrapping your arms around you. 

All you had to do was bring her something back. Something worth letting you back in. You just had to prove your worth and you wouldn’t have to leave Junkertown. Wouldn’t have to leave your home. Wouldn’t have to leave safety.


	5. People are the way you think they are

Your map arrived with an escort of three armed men. You had six drones clustered around you, and a pack filled with parts and tools. There were supplies too, but your escort was supposed to carry most of the supplies. 

They did not look like suitable escorts, but the Queen handpicked them. You couldn’t question her decision making now. Especially not now. No, you just had to take a big breath, grow up a bit, and do this one little thing for her. Go to the plane crash. Gather up something useful. Come back. That was it. It didn’t matter that you didn’t trust the people going with you. You just had to watch your own back.

It’s early enough that it’s not quite blazing hot yet. Your escorts sit you in the backseat of an old, rickety jeep that you’re pretty sure belongs in a museum somewhere. Or the scrap heap. You don’t mention it to the men around you. You instead arrange your things into a wall between you and one of them, piling your drones on top of your lap and at your feet. It’s not the best way of transporting them. You should have them in foam lined, shock resistant cases. But this was the wasteland, and you doubted you would have the luxury of pulling them out of a box if you needed defense.

Your escorts were blissfully quiet. The only noise was the loud, angry growl of the engine, which definitely needed a tune-up that you simply weren’t going to provide. If it broke down you would fix it. Until then, it wasn’t your problem. So you listened to the clunking and the whistle of the wind as it blew past you.

There really was nothing out here. It was desert. Rocks. Sand. Dirt. There were some plants, tiny and shriveled, fighting to cling to the slightest bit of life. It was miserable. Sure, somewhere out there in the world, there were other cities. There was, water, plants, technology, life. But those places were for people who didn’t grow up elbows deep in rust and mud. You were a skilled mechanic, but you doubted you could survive out there. Even if you could get out of Australia in the first place. People didn’t want to come here. That’s why the plane was a rare, valuable commodity. 

You offered directions according to the map when you stopped, and the escorts continued their habit of rarely speaking to you or each other. Eventually you got tired of staring at dying shrubs and fell asleep. You dreamt of being back home, doing all business with everyone through the tiny eye slot in your door. Wonderful.

You woke up to being jostled and thrown to the ground. You barely had time to press the small button under your sleeve to activate your drones before a gun is shoved in your face.

“The Map.”

You narrow your eyes at the escort standing in front of you. He glares back down, holding out his hand. There’s the sound of crushing metal as two of your drones are hit down with bats. The other four fly out of range, circling closer to you. You can hear their tasers begin to charge but that gun is right in your face. You would get revenge, but it would be from the grave. Slowly you pull a folded piece of paper out of your pocket, placing it in the man’s hand. 

He gave you a small smile. “The Queen will be pleased with what we find.”

You aren’t surprised when they get in their jeep and drive away. You just sigh and pull your hood over your head to keep the sun off. You are surprised that they believed that was the map. You finger the paper hidden at your side and push yourself to your feet. You only have so much time to walk before they realize what happened and came back. You weave to the west, glancing at the compass on your side. It was only a matter of time before they betrayed you. The biggest mistake was doing so before getting you to the plane. They didn’t have your knowledge. Now, they didn’t have you or the map. 

But they did have a vehicle and plenty of supplies. You had what little you managed to pack around your tools. If you were careful you had water for maybe three days. You would make do. All you had to do was get there, and get back. And then you would be safe again.

You rested next to the largest rock you had seen for miles, spreading out the map and charting your course. You were exhausted. The heat was tearing into you. Your clothing was drenched with sweat and the dust on your skin was turning to mud and drying in the same breath. You were covered in more filth than you’d ever been in your entire life. And it really was all your fault. You should have done better. Given your work a little more polish. It was perfect but you could improve it anyway. Done something, anything, to keep the Queen happy with you.

What had you done to make her unhappy?

Or maybe it wasn’t even about that. Maybe you were just a useful pawn to send. Or perhaps it was both. A punishment and a useful pawn. You sighed, forcing yourself to stand up and start walking. You didn’t have time to laze around.

The one good thing about this situation was the silence. The only thing you could hear was the slight buzz from your drones circling you. There wasn’t even the sound of wind. It was just you. Blissfully alone. No one’s eyes on you. No one talking. You were tempted to close your eyes as you walk and just bask in the empty noiseless air. But if you closed your eyes now, you were certainly going to fall asleep. You couldn’t risk sleeping without cover.

You ran out of water on your third day, as you suspected you would. You had enough food for another day though. That was something to look forward to. You sighed, lingering for a little longer in the shade of a large, dead tree that you managed to find. You checked over your drones and forced yourself to get up.

That’s when you heard the engine. You pulled up your rifle, scanning the horizon. The dust cloud was fairly obvious in this landscape. It was a fairly large cloud too. You hid behind the tree, aiming out from behind it. The cloud billowed up towards the tree, obscuring your vision. You hid, finger on your rifle’s trigger, ready to fight. You hope that, whoever it is, they’ll just pass you by. But you’re just not that lucky.

The motor hovers right near on the other side of the tree. “Oh well now, I know them toys!”

Great. Just. Fantastic. 

You lower your rifle and shift your finger off the trigger, stepping around the tree. Junkrat and Roadhog. Exactly the two troublemakers you wanted to see right now. That just made the whole situation great.

“What are ya doin’ out here?” Junkrat laughed, leaping out of his sidecar.

“Business for the Queen. Now fuck off.” You growl. You are in no condition or mood to deal with anybody’s shit but your own. Especially not these fucks. Best case scenario they try to rob you too. Although they actually know how your drones feel. Best case scenario, they destroy your drones, then try to rob you.

“Really? She let you outta that cage huh? What for?” Junkrat prodded your shoulder and you glared at him. He just grinned and prodded you again. You stepped out of reach, deciding to attempt walking away.

“Aw c’mon. Aint we friends?” Junkrat whined. You spun around on your heel and whacked at the air in his direction.

“I hate you.” You breathed out. The angry twist of your lips softened when you recognized the slight flinch in Junkat’s shoulders. You didn’t… You did hate him. He was awful and trashy and unpredictable. The Queen hated him, so you hated him. 

But the Queen sent you out here.

You sighed. “I... Sorry.”

You slung your rifle over your shoulder and turned to keep walking. Then you stopped. You an idea you were going to regret. But you were already regretting a lot of things. What’s one more to add to the list.

“You two interested in a treasure hunt?”


	6. Don't work while you eat

You miss the silence. 

Junkrat talks so much. You can’t really hear his words over the engine, but that doesn’t seem to be an issue. He’s just talking, and talking, and talking. You’re crammed next to him in his sidecar. Although for once you’re just as covered in dirt as he is. So that’s surprisingly not a problem. You don’t understand how he goes about in so little clothing. It was hot. How was he not sunburned to hell and back. Whenever you glanced at his face he would smile, despite your near constant scowl. What an annoying man.

Roadhog was better, though marginally. He barely responded in grunts whenever Junkrat addressed him. His driving was, abysmal. You were pretty sure you were going to die on this trip. 

At least you would die getting closer than you were going to on your own. You had to split your findings three ways, and explain to them how the stranger bits were worth anything at all, but at least you had a ride. With their, assistance, you would be able to reach water within a day, if not the next morning. Which would be better than being dehydrated. You had to stoop to their level though. The Queen would be so pissed. But maybe she should have chosen men that were a little more afraid of her. Or maybe you should have dedicated time to making people a little afraid of you.

All you wanted was your quiet life in your workshop. Hands full of gears and grease. The good kind of grease, the kind you used to turn metal into working magic. You kept yourself safe within your work when you should have been, competing. In the scrap yard. Your bots were in there frequently but you yourself only went that one time. If you had piloted your bots yourself. Maybe people would be afraid. And then they would leave you alone. There was still the chance when you got back to Junkertown. You could please the Queen, let people know you were not to be messed with, and then you could stay in your workshop forever.

Maybe you would weld the door shut.

“I said, you don’t talk much, do ya.” Junkrat’s breath was hot against your ear. You shrieked, almost throwing your drones out of the sidecar. Junkrat laughed beside you, slapping his hand against his knees. 

“You jump easy too!”

You pursed your lips, wanting to snap at him but not wanting any more dust to get into your mouth than you already had. You huffed, ignoring him until the motorcycle came to a slow stop in the middle of the great, vast openness. You carefully lifted yourself and your drones out of the sidecar, activating them and letting them over as you stared over the endless empty horizon.

You felt small.

You glanced back at the sound of shuffling, watching Junkrat pull a pair of tattered bags out of their storage. A good a place to camp as any in all this, you suppose. You busy yourself tearing up any of the wood-like dry, dead plants to stack for a fire. It wouldn’t be a big one, but good enough. You should’ve pulled some wood from the dead tree you found earlier. Roadhog kneeled next to you, holding a lighter to the pile. You moved your hands to shield the flame from what little wind there was until it was big enough to survive on its own. When you looked up, Roadhog was staring at you.

Or at least, you think he was. The black goggles really didn’t make it very clear. You stared back for just a second before shuffling yourself a comfortable distance away from the growing flames. You snagged a drone out of the air, deactivating it and going through maintenance. You lose yourself in the familiarity, barely noticing the smell of cooking meat until Roadhog pushes a metal camping mug full of soup between you and your drone. You cautiously take it, setting the drone aside for a moment. You only make it a few bites of the surprisingly tasty soup before you start reaching for your tools again. You can work and eat at the same time. You’ll die before you spill your food.

“Hey. Eat.” You look up at Roadhog, who manages to point his spoon menacingly. You throw up a hand, returning to your cup.

“He does that to me too. Your ‘posed to eennnjjoooooyyyy the food.” Junkrat rolls his eyes from his seat next to Roadhog.

“It’s good soup.” You answer, content to stare at the swirling liquid. “Thank you.”

You manage to eat quietly, not really paying attention to the conversation the two outcasts were having on the other side of the flames. You keep glancing towards your drone. You really, really want to get back to work. What will you build when you get home? Perhaps a new fan. A better one. Maybe a few for the Queen too, can’t be too proactive when it comes to getting yourself in her good graces. You end up pouring the last bit into your mouth, careful to keep it from dripping onto your face. You grab your cleanest rag to at least wipe out the inside. Junkrat snags it out of your hands before you can.

“Guess you did like it.” 

“Don’t you want me to clean that?” You ask, wiggling your rag.

“Got a thing for cleanin’ don’t ya.” Junkrat snorts, scooping more soup into the cup and sitting down with it himself.

“Forgive me for not being disgusting.” You huff, picking your drone back up and resuming your careful checks. You pulled out a little air can, trying to clear some of the dust away from the sensitive joints. It was a losing battle but you aimed to go down fighting. You were aware that you were being watched as you worked. Normally this would drive you up the wall like nothing else. People looking at you alone was a problem but when you were doing what you liked best? Hell no.

But this was, fine? Perhaps it was because Junkrat only watched you before. Not that you were happy about that. But repeated exposure and all. You sighed, reactivating the last drone and directing them to circle. They seemed just fine. And then you had nothing to do but look up and stare back at Roadhog across the fire.

Junkrat had set up a pair of tents, shoving a torn and badly patched blanket into the bigger one. Roadhog hadn’t moved, except to rest his shotgun next to him on the ground. You wondered if he thought you were a threat. You would consider yourself one, but you considered everyone a threat. Trust meant death. You can’t be hurt by a betrayal if you’ve already seen it coming and prepared yourself for the impact. You just wish in this case the impact wasn’t from a massive shotgun. Or explosives. Both of those seemed, highly unpleasant.

“Here, you can take this one, if it’s not too dirty for you.” Junkrat motioned to the smaller tent. You stared at him blankly for a moment before realizing he meant to sleep in.

“What about you?”

“Me and Roadie will share a tent, plus we can’t have you runnin’ out on us.” Junkrat shrugged, dropping down next to Roadhog and curling against his side. 

“I will not go anywhere, I’m not like that.” You growl. You would never abandon a deal that you made. You were better than that. Besides. You didn’t have a vehicle. Even if you were that despicable, you wouldn’t get very far before they found you again.

You stood up and marched to the tent. Before you stepped in you snagged your drones out of the air one at a time, switching them to sentry mode. “They’ll alarm if anyone or anything new shows up. So no one has to keep watch.”

“Thanks.”

You blinked at Roadhog for a few seconds before catching yourself and nodding. You slid into the small tent, grateful for the close quarters. You were having more than enough of open spaces.


	7. Nightmares

You were the first up. The first thing you did was look at the map, checking with your gear to make sure you were heading in the fastest direction. You were making great time, Roadhog’s driving was terrifying but it got you there quickly. Plus, you felt better than you had been the past few days. Roadhog’s soup was just what you needed. Though if you would gladly die before you admitted it. You had already been polite about it, there was no need to be nice.

You say that, and yet you carefully disassemble the tent and carefully clean up the little spot you were sleeping in. Being in a wasteland didn’t mean you should just leave everything lying around.

Roadhog was the next up, coming out of the tent as you walked back from relieving yourself some distance away. You may or may not buried, like a cat. Depends on how judgemental the situation is. You admit to nothing at any point. He stretched and fished a thermos out of their things. You politely turned around, scrubbing your hands with a tiny bit of antibacterial gel. If you were lucky there would be some at the crash site. You had a good stockpile in your workshop but it was so rare. 

“Here.” Roadhog offered you the thermos. You took it, offering him the gel. He snorted at you.

“You’re ridiculous.” 

You made a face at him and sipped tentatively. It was, blissfully, tea instead of the coffee you suspected. Not as sweet as you would personally enjoy but nice regardless. You hand it to him back with a grateful nod. “I’m not ridiculous. I’m clean.”

“We’re in the desert.” 

“I’m the cleanest fucking thing in the desert.” You cross your arms, tilting your nose to the air. Roadhog laughed at you. It was a deep, rough noise. Not particularly harsh, just rough. Like a good sandpaper. You roll your eyes and tuck your things away, making sure your bag is secure. 

“Not for long.” Roadhog said as he gently removed a sleepy Junkrat from the tent, plopping him down with the thermos.

“What, are you going to fill your shotgun with soap and go at it?” You smiled without meaning to, standing next to Junkrat. Someone wasn’t an early riser. You would bet he preferred to stay up all night too. It was understandable. You didn’t have to deal with people or heat if you were up at night. You would have to be able to sleep through daytime noises though. Not something you were capable of.

“I’ll have a go at you.” Roadhog packed the tent into the storage hatch. “Let’s move.”

You reach down and pull Junkrat to his feet, guiding the barely awake man to the sidecar. He capped the tea, storing it away before scooting into the vehicle. You contemplate offering to reorganize their storage area, it’s clearly a mess, but think better of it. You have your own things to be concerned with. Getting in next to Junkrat, carefully deactivating and layering your drones over your lap, wrapping your arms around them to keep them from moving as the motorcycle started off again.

“What’re we lookin’ for anyway.” Junkrat mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Big plane came down. Multiple parts, large area. The Queen didn’t mention what happened to it. Just gave the order to search the cargo. She sent me, so it’s probably tech or machinery of some kind.” You answered, trying to shout against the wind. 

“What’s stoppin’ someone from gettin’ in there?” He asked, leaning closer to you.

“Unless the Queen’s scouts hung around, nothing. We have to move fast. And frankly, you don’t want the Queen’s scouts hanging around. That’ll just get you shot. Unless there’s some latent security system she decided not to tell me about. Just watch your back.” 

“S’long as I got Roadhog I don’t need to. He watches me, I watch him.” Junkrat said proudly, a little puff in his chest. He cast a fond look over at the driver. You’re quiet for a moment, glancing away. That was a bad call on both their parts. Getting involved with someone was a death trap. Best case scenario one of them died before the hammer dropped. Worst case one robbed the other and dropped the body off a cliff. But it wasn’t any of your business. Their lives, their choices.

“Aw don’t be jealous, there’s always room for more!” Junkrat laughed. You flicked a disgusted look his way and slowly shook your head.

“What joy.” You hissed sarcastically. “I was givin’ you a moment. Unless you want me to stare at you makin’ eyes at your boyfriend.”

“I would love it.” Junkrat’s smile made you want to knock out his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him slowly. The longer you stare, the more he grins. Why are you participating. Why are you encouraging this. You throw your gaze back to the open desert, ignoring Junkrat’s hysterical laughter. It wasn’t that funny.

“Jamison.” Roadhog’s voice carried a low rumble of warning. Enough that, aside from a last wheeze of delight, the silence returned. 

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep. You dreamt of being back home, safe and sound. Your workshop door was blessedly closed. Locked. Everything was nice and quiet and peaceful. You were so wonderfully alone. But then you heard a tapping at your door. One tap became dozens of pounding noises banging against the metal. It dented. You began to panic. The door began to bear several ragged cuts that pulsed with hands reaching in. Terror swelled until you began to violently shake.

Junkrat was wiggling you, giving your shoulders a slight squeeze. “C’mon, wake up. There ya are.”

You freeze, squeezing your arms around your drones. You’re, safe? Not really. You’re in a metal box blasting through the desert to go hunt through the remains of a plane crash. With two assholes who are fairly likely to kill you at any point. That’s not, that’s not safe.

But you aren’t stuck in your workshop while hundreds of what pretty much looked like monster hands tried to get in so, positives. 

“Hey, ya alright?” You looked at Junkrat, further disturbed by the concern you found there. You didn’t need that. You didn’t want that. You were not friends. You would rather enjoy never speaking to Junkrat again. You wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, you just nodded and looked at the horizon in front of you. You were fine. Everything was fine.

There was, finally, some variation. Trees. Rocks. Not much variation. And those trees were super dead. But it was something other than an endless plane of flat nothingness. You hated that so much. You couldn’t wait to be back home. First thing you would do was reinforce the main shop door. Or maybe just move into the Queen’s place. She asked you about it in the past, but you hadn’t accepted. Maybe that’s why you were here now. Didn’t matter. You just had to fix it.

Just, just fix it.


	8. Stay Down

“No no no, that type of wire is too thin!” Junkrat argued. You wanted to throw your arms up, but settled for an exaggerated roll of your shoulders.

“Not if you have the skill to handle it.” You retort. 

“Oi! You doubtin’ me?” Junkrat poked you roughly in the shoulder. You roll your eyes.

“With bombs, no. With anything else? Probably.” 

“Knock it off.” Roadhog snapped over the noise of the engine. You sheepishly smile in his direction. You had Junkrat had been arguing about, literally anything you could think to argue about for hours now. So far it had been about which tools you preferred, what was the best process for projects, grid paper type, and most recently, the best kind of wire. Wire. You were arguing about. Wire. You were right though. Fuck that guy. And his too thick wire.

You turn to face away from the two of them, trying to hide the small smile that appeared on your face. Your smile fell into a frown when you spotted a cloud of dust in the distance. You didn’t trust it to be just wind. “Roadhog. To the South.”

Roadhog looked and gave a low growl. Junkrat pulled out his launcher, scooting up and leaning one of his elbows on your shoulder. “Try not to move, we’ve got this.”

You couldn’t really argue, not that you were incredibly happy to have Junkrat’s skinny elbow driving into your shoulder. You couldn’t hold your rifle and your drones. Damn if you weren’t ineffective right now. Your drones couldn’t keep up with a vehicle so you couldn’t let them go. You never thought you would need to make them fast enough. You never thought you would leave the city. Never thought you’d have to rely on these assholes to keep you alive. Anger surges through you. You hate having to rely on them. But you relied on the Queen. Was there really a difference?

Of course there was. When you relied on the Queen it was a clear exchange. She protected you. Cared for you. You were her loyal servant. You built whatever she asked, whenever she asked. What were you giving to these two? Your stunning personality? It made you feel, indebted. Gross.

The motorcycle kicked into gear as the truck managed to appear on your tail. Junkrat fired behind you, grenades emerging with a pop before shortly exploding. Roadhog drove with one hand on his shotgun, ready to shoot them if they got to their side. You turned as much as you could to watch Junkrat’s work. The truck had definitely been hit, and the path behind them was littered with holes. One of the men in the truck rose, firing off his gun. The bullet dinged against the sidecar, just inches from your head. You were surprised that you didn’t scream. You just flinched. 

“Stay down!” Junkrat yelled, shoving your head down and firing his launcher with one hand. He pulled out a mine, flinging it through the air. He flicked a remote out of his pants and pressed the button. The sound of the truck behind you stopped with a larger explosion. Junkrat waited a moment before removing his hand from your head and sitting back down.

“Don’t go gawkin’, that’s how ya die.” He grumbled, putting his weapons away. The serious lines on his face dropped with a broad smile. “If you wanna see somethin’ blow up, ya just gotta ask.”

“... Got it.” You say quietly. You think again of the bullet that narrowly missed you and suppress a shudder. “Good work.”

It was impressive. You had the fiercest urge to get into one of his bombs, take the wires apart and figure them out. You doubted he would let you anywhere near his bombs. Which was understandable. They were his intellectual property. And his actual property. And you would probably blow yourself up by accident. Just because you could build yourself a limb didn’t mean you wanted to expedite the process.

“Oh that was nothin’. You haven’t see what my babies can do!” Junkrat leaned back, getting comfortable for what was probably going to be a very long session of bragging.

“Picture this, if ya would, There’s a safe. And it’s guarded. By robots! And it’s in a building. That’s also guarded, by more robots! And men with guns, big guns, and all of them walkin in their loops. My babies, my bombs, blow straight through them. Bam! Scatter ‘em like confetti. You like confetti don’t you?” Junkrat paused his story, looking at you.

You laugh out your answer, “No, not really.”

“Then just like, uh, rain! Yeah a good ragin' storm. All over the place. Blowin’ right through the thick concrete walls, thicker than Roadhog- love ya Roadie- blowin’ right through them walls, there’s dust there’s ash there’s Fire!” Junkrat cackles. “And then there’s that safe, top-a the line, eye scanners, some sorta omnic thing, nasty stuff, and then one little tick, tick, Tock! It’s shredded! And we make off with that sweet loot! All thanks to my sweet little babes.”

Junkrat set a hand on his chest and sighed, dreamily. “My beautiful explosions.”

Your anxiety from the admittedly minor fight had faded away. You were watching Junkrat tell his story with a small, thoroughly amused smile. “They’re very nice.”

Junkrat smiles back at you and reaches to nudge Roadhog. “Hey. I think sooomeeonnee doesn’t hate me.”

You snort, turning your head to hide your laugh. “No, I still very much hate you. I am full of hate and disgust and-” More giggles shake themselves out as you. 

“I think someone's a liar.” Roadhog accused, with a single soft laugh of his own. 

“I can’t believe you just accused me, a Paragon of Junkertown, of being a liar. I, I have never heard, such a scandal, wow. Just. Wow. That’s probably how you got kicked out, isn’t it. You implied that anyone of our esteemed society was capable of lying. How could you.” You put on your best stuffy air. Which was, uncomfortably similar to your regular air.

Junkrat cackled. “Nah, it’s cause we stole somethin’ from the Queen. She’s just afraid we’ll do it again.”

He glanced from you to Roadhog and wiggled his eyebrows. Roadhog gave a much louder laugh, boisterous. 

You snorted and shook your head. “Of course you did. If only you didn’t dedicate all your smarts to blowing shit up.” 

“Oh, I did that too.”


	9. Mistakes

“There.” You pointed towards the horizon. There, just vaguely, was a strange grey and white splatter on the horizon line. The plane. You could still see the smoke leaking into the sky in twirling clouds of black and grey. You were almost there. Just needed one little thing of value, enough to get you back into Junkertown. Back into safety. But the sun was getting low, and Roadhog had been driving non-stop. As much as it still twisted you to admit it you needed him fully rested. Ready to fight.

“Let’s stop for the night. Get some sleep and then go in.” You said, trying to frame it like a suggestion.

“We’re sooo close, we can sleep later!” Junkrat cackled, already fishing up his launcher. You sigh and shake your head.

“Roadhog hasn’t slept in days. If there’s a big fight waiting he needs to sleep. I’d like it if none of us died.” You looked from Junkrat to Roadhog. “You need some sleep.”

“Hey. Roadhog. You need to sleep.”

“Don’t ignore me Roadhog.”

“Roadhog. Roadhog. Roadhog.” You began to chant. Junkrat joined in, seemingly more interested in helping you in your quest to annoy Roadhog into resting than he was in pilfering whatever was left in the plane crash. The motorcycle stopped with a jolt. Roadhog slowly turned towards the two of you, his hands clenched around the handlebars. You nervously chuckle and wiggle yourself up and out of the sidecar. 

“Good. I’ll set up your tent, c’mon.” You activate your drones and wait for Junkrat to hand you the larger tent bag. He keeps cackling, which makes you laugh, which makes Roadhog look at the two of you with Murder in his shoulders. Which, was really just also funny. He needed rest. If this is how he got it then, good. You achieved your job. Mastered your quest. Perhaps that could be your new profession if you ever got bored of being a mechanic. Annoying people to sleep. Although that meant talking to people and you still, did not like that. These two were different. Awful and you hated them. But different. Tolerable.

The bigger tent was difficult to set up. You slapped yourself in the face with a pole towards the end but it was done. You sat on a relatively flat rock, legs stretched out near the small fire Junkrat had put together. A thought struck you and you shuffled through your tools. At the bottom, in a banged up wrapper, was one of your chocolate bars. You pulled it out, cracking it into three pieces and handing them out.

“Oh, cheers.” Junkrat took his piece, immediately gnawing on it.

“Had a box of ‘em back home.” You explain, snapping off one of your little segments and popping into your mouth. You hummed as the sweet melted. Chocolate was so good. If there was ever a legitimate reason to leave the wasteland it would be to get chocolate. Or dependable running water. Or medical care. 

Alright there were a lot of reasons to leave the wasteland. You just happened to really enjoy chocolate.

You looked up at Junkrat, his mouth covered in chocolate as he licked his fingers clean. You laughed softly and raise your hand to cover your smile. Of course he would make a mess out of even the smallest piece of chocolate. You wish you had more just to watch the chaos that unfolded. Far away from you. You didn’t want to also end up covered in gunk. Junkrat grins at you. His smile slowly fades as he takes in your wrist. He leans over and taps the cuff.

“She aint gonna let you go once you get back. You know that, yeah?”

You stare in blank surprise. “Huh?”

“The Queen. Once you get back she’s just gonna lock ya up in yer cage. And she aint gonna let you go out again.” His voice was soft. You bristle without meaning to.

“That’s, that’s the point? I want to be in my cag- my shop. I don’t want to go out. I hate being out of my shop, forget being out of Junkertown. There’s so much nothin’ out here, so many people in there. Hate being around people. Always lookin’ at me an’ talkin’ an’ whisperin’. And the touchin’. People love touchin’. Greasy fuckin’ dirty hands smearin’ mud everywhere. Can’t trust ‘em. Can’t trust anyone or anything.” Your fingers twist around each other, jamming your last piece of chocolate in your mouth with more force than necessary. 

Silence creeps up. It smothers the loud screaming in your head. Smothers the crackle of the fire. You stare into it, shoulders tense, arms wrapped around your waist, the cold twisting under your skin.

“Do ya trust us?” Junkrat’s voice was so soft. You look into his eyes and feel more horror pushing through you.

“Ye-” What. No. No you don’t. No you do not. You trust no one. Never. You don’t. 

“No. No. I can’t trust you. And you shouldn’t trust me. Don’t trust anybody or anything. This is the goddamn wasteland, Junkrat. Everyone here is vicious and vile and only out for themselves. Do business, but don’t. Fuck. Don’t trust anyone. You’re gonna get yerself killed.” You’re not sure if there’s panic or anger in your voice. You turn away, ignoring the hurt look on Junkrat’s face and the empty stare of Roadhog’s mask.

You stared into the nothingness that stretched around you. You refused to look back at them, refused to think about it. Not even when Junkrat makes an angry, insulted noise and stomps into the tent. They were not your friends. You didn’t have friends. You had, business allies. At best. And even that was putting yourself at risk. But you weren’t watching them. You had deactivated the drones. Your back was partially to them. You weren’t concerned with what they were doing. Just how. Just how they felt. Frustration twisted against you. Trust. Don’t Trust. Trust. You would never seen them again, once you got home. If you got home.

When you finally turned around, both Junkrat and Roadhog were gone. In the tent, asleep. You felt a guilt settle over you that you didn’t want to acknowledge. So you set up your drones to circle the area and pulled your rifle out. And you held watch. Looking over the wasteland.

This was a punishment. For talking to them in the first place. The Queen was angry that you had slipped up and let yourself get dragged to the ground. She probably knew that you had gone through the trouble of fixing Junkrat’s arm. She hated them and was angry with you. So she punished you. Forced you to do exactly what you hated most. Leave your precious shop. Leave your precious city. Did she know, that her own men would leave you stranded in the desert? Did she know, that you would end up with Junkrat and Roadhog? You looked at your wrist cuff, the fire glittering against the gold.

Did she make a mistake? Or did you?


	10. Fucking. Omnics.

You held a quiet vigilance throughout the night. You couldn’t fall asleep so keeping watch was the best you could do. Your own words kept running through your head, ripping through you. You don’t trust Junkrat. You don’t trust Roadhog.

But you might.

That frightens you more than any crowd, any open space, any threat ever could. Your carefully constructed walls were cracking. All that time and effort and energy spent creating an impenetrable barrier between you and the world was wasted. Ineffective. Pointless. You finally built something that didn’t work. It made you sick. Poured salt into your wounds and ground it in. The only way you would be saved is if they didn’t trust you. A pretty good bet, after what you said.

Why’d you say that. Why’d you open your damn mouth. This sort of shit is why staying alone in a workshop is a good idea. The only good idea you’ve ever had.

No one said a word to you as they got up. You deserved that. You’d probably also deserve it if you got shot in the head but neither of them seemed interested in a fight either. The camp was silently broken down. You wanted to apologize. But you couldn’t. You were right. You had to be right. Your entire life was built on not trusting others. You couldn’t…couldn’t give in now.

“Sure you wanna get so close?” Junkrat sneered when you climbed into the sidecar with him. You sighed, leaning your head on your drones. You stared at the rusted sidecar wall.

“I don’t know.” You muttered, bitterness tainting your voice. You didn’t mean for him to hear you, but he made a noise and resumed ignoring you.

Hopefully, you could find enough valuable goods in the crash to improve the mood. You had fixed stitches in relationships, or relationship, for so long you weren’t quite sure what else to do. What else would work? Maybe there wasn’t anything to fix. They really weren’t your friends. They weren’t, not, your friends. Too late to ask and find out. Too late to do a lot of things. You shoved it to the back of your mind with as much force as you could. You had to focus. There was a job to be done one way or another.

You looked up to watch the plane appear in greater detail. It was massive, clearly a cargo plane. One of the wings was embedded in the ground a bit further away from the core of the plane. The body of the plane was gashed and missing a few pieces here and there, but it was mostly intact. But that’s not what caught your attention. The smoke you had assumed was from the plane itself was actually from surrounding piles of smaller scrap. Darker metal, that you didn’t think had come from the plane. You wordlessly moved your eyes between the flaming metal and your drones. 

“What ‘ave we here,” Junkrat muttered beside you. You searched the area for some sign of an ambush, or some sort of security detail that came down with the plane. But you didn’t see anything. Just the signs of carnage. If there was anything left, it wasn’t going to be easy to get.

“Careful.” Roadhog stopped the bike, pulling out his shotgun before he got up. You were slower, sending each drone into the air to begin to circle before you stepped out. You pulled your rifle off your shoulder, checking to make sure it was loaded as you crept forward. Listening. You’d never been in an actual fight. Never had to be in one. 

Junkrat shoved past you, disappearing past a larger hunk of the plane. You sighed, trying to keep your emotions in check. You looked to Roadhog and nodded your head in Junkrat’s direction.

“Please go keep him alive.” You sighed. Roadhog stood still for a moment before huffing and walking after Junkrat. You had your drones, you would be perfectly fine. Maybe. You stepped through the wreckage, heading straight for the main body of the plane. There was a large hunk missing out the side, and you could see boxes strapped down. You smiled softly, stepping around a section of the wing.

An omnic jumped in front of you. Not particularly large, it still had a multibarreled gun aimed at your face. Fun.

“Boys! Omnics!” You screamed. Your drones swarmed, zapping the bucket of bolts before it had time to start zapping you. You stumbled back, barely having time to step behind cover before it recovered and began firing towards you. It tore away the metal you were hiding behind, aiming its weapon to fire again. Your drones were readying another charge. They wouldn’t, charge in time. Shit. Fuck. You have a rifle in your hands for fuck’s sake-

A hook slides around the omnic, tugging it away. A shotgun tore the upper half of the wretched machine off. Roadhog was at your side in a second, angrily hauling you behind him. The plane was guarded by omnics. Of fucking course. That explained all of the fucking wreckage. Explosions sounded off and Junkrat’s cackle rang out over the sound of bullets. At least these two were somewhat capable. You should have done a little more. You will do more. You directed your drones towards the omnics. Electric shocks disrupted them long enough for Roadhog to snag and shatter the nasty things.

Every time you tried to peer out around Roadhog and take a shot with your rifle, he would shove you back down. You were both angry, and concerned. You weren’t helpless. Inexperienced maybe. But not useless. Junkrat appeared beside you, covered in ash and laughing. 

“Ran outta me bombs.” He snorted. You could still hear the sound of approaching omnics. With a flick you recalled your drones and unlatched the case on the first one. You handed it over to Junkrat, who glanced at the myriad of carefully laid wires and then at you. A slow smile spread across his face and his hands went to work. You undid the casing on each drone, handing it over to him as Roadhog continued to keep the omnics busy.

“Ready!” Junkrat cackled. You reactivated your drones, trying not to wince at the immediate smoke. You sent them towards the remaining omnics. You did wince as they exploded. Electrical shocks burst out in little lightning strikes, frying the omnics where they stood. With a few more shots, the threat had passed.

Your poor drones. You would have to build more. Well. Now was a good opportunity to rebuild them properly. Make them faster. Give them stronger shocks. Longer shocks?

“I saaaaid, that was some quick thinkin’!” Junkrat shouted, inches from your face. You stared at him like he just tongued a three-week old empty can of spaghetti sauce before realizing that he had been talking to you.

“Oh… yeah well. When you want something to blow up.” You gestured to him.

Junkrat laughed, leaning forward with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Oh, but where’s your defense now hmmm?”

“Oh like you can tell your head from your ass in there.” You snort, rolling your eyes. You pause and squint at his arm. It was leaking. Again. “For fuck’s sake come here.” 

You sat Junkrat down on a crate, sitting next to him with your tools leaning on your leg. You still had your good cleaning cloth thankfully. His arm was covered in dust and ooze. If only you had some water or cleaning solution of some kind. You could only clean it so much before you saw the loose hose again. You should just replace the entire hose. Fix the fittings too. Your fix should do, for now. You almost glared at the hose, daring it to come loose as you shifted Junkrat’s arm around. 

“There… should be okay.” You say slowly. You look up to Junkrat’s crooked, toothy smile. 

“Thanks mate.” He bounced up, giving his arm more of a swing than you were comfortable with. “Let’s go see what’s we got!” 

You smiled as Junkrat excitedly lept through a gash in the cargo hold. Roadhog stopped you as you went to follow, one of his large hands resting on your shoulder. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, staring at you. You winced as you heard a loud crash from the cargo hold. You hoped that wasn’t anything valuable. 

“I swear if he makes that arm leak again-” You mutter.

Roadhog chuckled.“You’ll what? Fix it again?"

You could practically feel the smug ass grin on his face. You put on your best disgusted look. “I-you know what. Don’t you, don’t laugh at me. Are we going in there or are we waiting for him to blow himself up with something. We’ve got like 3 minutes before he finds a way.”

"For someone who doesn't trust us. You're pretty concerned." Roadhog said slowly. You flinched and the hand on your shoulder gave a surprisingly gentle squeeze. Comforting.

"It's alright. C'mon. Before he blows up our loot." He released you, following Junkrat into the cargo hold. You waited a moment to follow him, repeating the phrase under your breath.

It's alright.


	11. Jackpot

“This crate’s value’d be about, 2.3 million.” You remarked, looking through yet another crate. Junkrat looked in your direction and shook his head.

“No room!” He smirked. “Unless ya wanna sit on my lap.” 

“For the last time I’m not sitting in your lap.” You smirked right back at him. “I’ll sit on Roadhog’s lap though.”

Junkrat gave you an offended look and you laughed softly. You’d been searching the cargo hold for the better part of a few hours. Most of it, while valuable, was too big to fit on their motorcycle, or in the sidecar’s little storage area. At first you wondered if they would leave you there in order to run off with the best of what you found, but Junkrat kept shutting down anything big. It made you feel guilty for doubting. And then concerned again. You shoved the confusion aside, determined to focus on finding the best bang for the buck.

This was delivering some heavy tech. If you had more vehicles and space you could have a field day. The things that you could build with this stuff. Not just turrets, but automated systems. You could outfit the Queen’s entire palace with this and still have materials for your workshop, the scrap heap, the gates. You wonder if it was possible to install some things for Junkrat and Roadhog. A little thank you gift. At least a defense turret. That might get you in trouble with the Queen again though. Oh well. If she wanted you to behave then she shouldn’t have thrown you out.

This plane would be an excellent distraction to keep her attention off of you for a bit. The Queen was going to have to send out a large fleet to get everything back. Even if scavengers came in and grabbed things there was still so many large crates that there would be something left. Not to mention the materials used in the plane itself. You could scavenge the computer parts, the wiring, electronic components, it was all useful. Not all of it valuable. But useful.

So far all you’d managed was to pilfer a few higher end computer parts and batteries for your drones. You’re pretty sure Junkrat was tinkering with, something, on the other side of the craft. This wasn’t good. Finding valuable things was pointless if it couldn’t be transported. You couldn’t leave without finding something the three of you could split.

You cut the ropes on a large pallet of heavy-duty boxes, pulling one aside to pry it open. It was full of smaller boxes packed with styrofoam to protect them. You opened one and gasped aloud. “Holy shit.”

“What’d you find.” Roadhog asked, coming up next to you.

“Pulse weapon cores. I think this whole pallet is pulse weapon cores. These things are, you don’t see these. They were Overwatch tech. You, literally can’t get these anywhere. They’re locked up, illegal.” You looked at Roadhog with a cautious grin. “These things are valuable, mate. And transportable.”

Part of you, the part that’s spent your entire life dedicated exclusively to your self-preservation, is concerned that announcing that is exactly how you die. And you, are not someone who can hide your emotions very well. Or at all. It’s all right there on your face. Written in bold ass font. Maybe with some neon lights. Something festive. Orange and yellow maybe. Or Green and yellow. Very eye-catching.

Roadhog pat your shoulder and picked up one of the sealed boxes. “Good find.”

A small smile twitches on your face. “You don’t seem the type to be so gentle.”

He makes a low inaudible noise, and then suddenly reaches out and shoves you over. Despite the rough landing you immediately start laughing. You’re not sure why that’s the funniest thing to you, but you quickly got an ache in your sides. 

“What’re ya laughin’ about?” Junkrat hobbled over, bits of wire in his hair. You don’t know what he was doing. But you’re content with never finding out.

“Roadhog shoved me over.”

“Ah, messin’ about on the job are ya? Here I thought you were dependable.” Junkrat crossed his arms and fought a smile. You stood up and threw a piece of styrofoam at him.

“Makin’ messes now?” Junkrat continued with an exaggerated gasp. You laughed and shoved a box into his arms.

“Finally found something good enough for us to take. Pulse weapon cores. The black market would kill for these. Imagine what either of us could make with ‘em. I’ve never seen a pulse weapon explode. I bet it’d be pretty nice. Not to mention what pulse shots would add to my drones.” You frowned. Maybe then the little things would be useful. You would have to start taking drones into the arenas for testing. If they couldn’t tear up arena opponents, then what use would they be in an actual fight.

You carefully picked up the box you opened, holding it closed as you carried it out. Just one of these boxes sold to the right client could set someone for life. The Queen would be beyond thrilled. Even if you kept a few of them to install pulse technology into your drones.

Sometimes you think about what it might be like if you weren’t in Australia. If you had been born literally anywhere else. With the technology the outside world had; what could you build? What amazing things could you do with a proper computer, proper education? What could you turn your drones into? Useless thinking. Even if you wanted to go now, you couldn’t. You had no idea how the two you were with made it off the island. You would need immediate medical care. An immediate job to afford the medical care. You would be surrounded by people. Junkertown already had too many people. You couldn’t imagine what a real city would be like. 

Still. You wondered.

Only one of the boxes fit into their little storage area. The other two would be on your lap. Which was fine, you carried the drones that way. The boxes were only marginally heavier. It was just a shame that you couldn’t bring more of the crates of pulse cores with you. The sale value didn’t matter to you, you weren’t going to be selling anything. But their uses.

“How long do you think it’ll be until scavengers descend?” You asked as Roadhog began to set up camp for the night. The smoldering metal hunks would be enough to keep you warm through the night.

“Word’s probably out about the omnics. It’ll be a couple weeks ‘fore anyone realizes the nasty things are dead.” Junkrat shrugged, gnawing on what you really hoped was beef jerky. That could be enough time for the Queen to send some more retrieval teams to the site. Even if they missed the rest of the cores there was more than enough there that could be of value to the Queen.

You thought about her too much. It felt like almost all of your life was arranged around making her happy and keeping her that way. But you had to. If you didn’t then you’d lose everything. All of your work, your tools, your supplies. Your little apartment with your honey drizzled toast and tea. The only way you kept it was to please the Queen.

You glanced at Roadhog and Junkrat. Even if you wanted to keep talking to them, you couldn’t. You didn’t have the supplies or the money to build yourself a little shack. Didn’t have any of your drones leftover to build a defense. Weren’t good enough with your rifle to hunt let alone put up a fight. You couldn’t survive on your own. Not helpless. But also not independent. It was embarrassing. Sickening. 

Weakness died in the wasteland. You were not weak. You would just have to take the time when you got home to teach yourself proper preparedness. Maybe even make plans for a way to sustain yourself out in the wastes on your own. Perhaps research water tables, pick a good place to put a well. People can’t look at you if you were in an underground home in the middle of nowhere. You could make a sturdy messenger drone to transport letters to Junkrat and Roadhog. That way you could stay in your underground home all alone and still, talk to them.

You could actually do that at Junkertown too. Make a small enough, fast enough drone with the right colors and you could send messages to anyone you pleased at any time without the Queen ever being aware.

That would be nice.


	12. Tussle

“So, what’s it like? The outside world.” You ask, carefully stirring the small camping pot. Roadhog had set you to cooking duty while he napped. Or, probably just sat there staring at you and Junkrat. With that mask on you had no idea. You weren’t even sure he could see out of the thing. Although his hooks were pretty well thrown. He could just be a really great guesser.

“A lil’ taste of freedom and ya wanna see everythin’, hm?” Junkrat grinned. You shake your head.

“Hell no. I don’t even want to see what I’ve already seen. You were already out there, can’t I just hear your stories?” You shake your nervousness out of your head. It wasn’t like anyone was going to force you out of Australia. If they could even find a way to do that.

Junkrat hummed, flopping against Roadhog’s side. “I guess I can tell ya things. If ya ask me nicely.”

“I will fight you.”

He propped himself back up with a grin. “Oh, will ya.”

You carefully pull the pot away from the fire, fishing out the metal cups to serve it. “Yes, yes I will. ‘Ask ya nicely’, as if I’ve ever done a nice thing in my life. Well. Perhaps once or twice. In a vague sense. But it was for selfish reasons I assure you. I am entirely focused on me and only me. ‘Ask ya nicely’. You dang-” 

You were cut off as Junkrat suddenly wove around the fire, knocking you down and sending the camp-cups flying. You flailed, sloppily elbowing him in the face. He laughed and tried to pull you into a choke hold. So you bit him. Not hard. It hurt you more than it hurt him. He was dirty. It was gross.

“Ow! Haha, Nice one.” Junkrat cackled, punching you in the side. You twisted and returned a punch to his side, just under his arm. Stunned him just long enough for you to break his hold and try to get to your feet. He grinned and pulled you back down. The two of you rolled in the dust for a while, jabbing and punching at each other. Snagging limbs into locks and breaking free. Junkrat’s laughs mixed with your cursing. When Roadhog pulled you two apart you were both covered in bruises and bite marks and a few scrapes from the rocks on the ground.

“What the hell.” Roadhog grumbled.

“Sorry, did we wake you up?” You were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath.

Junkrat grinned and wheezed at Roadhog. “Just a tussle. Wanna join in mate?”

You laughed, giggling harder when Roadhog dropped you back onto the ground. Slowly you pushed yourself to your feet, gathering the scattered metal cups and filling them with soup. You brought one to Roadhog as he sat back down, unable to keep the smile off your face. 

“I’m really sorry we woke you up, ‘specially over nonsense.” You said as he took the mug from your hands. You handed another one to a chuckling Junkrat, who was clearly not sorry for waking Roadhog up. You carefully sat down with your cup, pleased that you’d managed to clean everything with materials from the plane before you cooked. Clean, fresh cloths were magical. You ate in relative silence, though you and Junkrat kept giggling every so often. Poor Roadhog.

You cleaned your cup and set it aside, dabbing at the few scrapes you had with the little wet cloth package you’d found. You threw a sneer at Junkrat when he chuckled at you. “You got your dirt in my cuts.”

“Got it in yer mouth too.” He pointed at one of the bites on his arm. His own fault for trying to put you in a hold.

“Ugh. I know. I’m going to spend hours brushing my teeth when I get home. It’ll take a quarter of the tube just to get the dirt out.” You jokingly whined. Well, partially joking. You were definitely going to dedicate some time to getting your teeth back to par.

“Still concerned with bein’ clean?” You could hear the mockery in Junkrat’s voice. 

You pointed at him. “You should brush your teeth too. Or you’ll end up with more gold ones.”

“I like my tooth!”

“Then brush it!”

“Don’t make me come over there and beat ya again.” Junkrat wiggled his cup threateningly. You snorted and daintily dabbed at your face with your cloth, determined to get the most out of each one. You would be dirt free, so help you.

“You beat me? Did you? Because I think Roadhog saved you from losing to me.” You grinned from behind the cloth.

“Enough. Mess around when the job is done.” Roadhog held his cup in front of his face, covering his mouth. You’d never seen what he looked like under the mask. Which was probably for the best. He should protect all his secrets so vigilantly. 

“Fine, fine. Tell me one of your stories then.” You packed the camp-cup away, leaning against your pack. 

“Hmmm. There’s a place called Dorado. Real nice, got a good bar.” Junkrat started, returning to cuddle against Roadhog’s side. “Colorful too. Streamers everywhere. And the confetti. You’d hate that. It was everywhere. On the road, in the fountain, even got it in me hair.”

“Is that normal for cities?” You asked slowly. You knew it wouldn’t be for Junkertown. But who knows what folk got up to when they weren’t, ya know, dying.

“Nah, just Dorado. Had a great bank, really bad security. Blew a hole right into the side of it. Real easy to run off with the loot. Not a lotta people runnin’ about. Most of ‘em were inside at night. There was some gang or somethin’.” Sounded like Dorado wasn’t that different from Junkertown. Except for the confetti. Why did people even like having colorful paper scraps everywhere in the first place. It was just a mess. A pointless mess.

“Ya know what you’d like? This nasty place called Oasis. Clean everything, Nothin’s out of place. It’s awful.” Junkrat muttered.

“But Junkrat. There’s still people. Unless Oasis is an empty city somewhere. Which would be weird.” 

“Oh it’s fulla people. To the brim. You can't go two steps without seein' a crowd. Oh well. You’re stuck with us I guess.” He shrugged and then laughed. You smiled and shook your head. You weren’t technically stuck with them. But you would definitely pick Roadhog and Junkrat over a crowded city. Or, any city. There really wasn’t a population of people that you were comfortable with. For any reason.

Still. A city without dirt sounded pretty nice.


	13. Home

You had dreamt of a bath over the night. It had been so long since you had the chance to get really clean. The wet cloths, precious as they were, weren’t good enough to handle the layers of dust and grime and you really don’t want to think about what else was coating your skin. You were filthier than you’d ever been in your life.

It was a longer trip back than it was to the plane. You’d spent a lot more nights camping, resting near the fire and arguing with Junkrat over literally anything the two of you could argue about until Roadhog got tired of it and made everyone go to sleep. You were beginning to notice when he was starting to reach his bullshit limit. It was surprisingly high. You wouldn’t be able to take the nonsensical arguing for as long as he did. The arguments weren’t even real arguments. Half of the time neither of you disagreed but just wanted to mess with each other anyway. It should be maddening.

But it wasn’t. It was normal. You hadn’t realized how abnormal and horrifying most conversations felt to you before. You didn’t really understand what made these debates different. But did it matter? It was fun, and it was almost over. You could see Junkertown on the horizon.

Home.

Everything would be back to the way it was. More years spent locked away in your workshop, creating things for the Queen, avoiding the prying eyes of the people that lurked in the city. Brought out once in a blue moon to show you off to the curious crowds and their filth laden gazes. Like a prized purebred. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You took a deep breath. It was a way of life. Like anything else. You would survive. That’s what this all was. Survival. Nothing else mattered. Not even little whispers in the back of your mind that threatened you with emotions and attachments and other fast passes to being dead.

You kept looking at the city as you took down camp. Even when the other two woke up. You’d glance at what you were doing. Glance at them. Then glance at the city. It was so close. A bath was so close. Clean clothing was so close. Tea, food. But then…

But then…

Junkrat didn’t look at you. He was looking at the city too. Frowning. Muttering. Angry. You didn’t ask why. Knew it was at least a little your fault. You tried to avoid looking at Roadhog. The man knew too much. Sensed too much. How he could be so damn observant wearing a mask was confusing. There was no conversation as you squeezed into the sidecar. It felt like there was a huge cloud of soggy cotton pressing the noise away. You wanted to talk. Or rather, you wanted to hear them talk. Hear their voices. 

“Tell me something.” You murmur. You lean closer to Junkrat to hear him better.

“... Why don’t you tell me something.” Junkrat grumbled, lip curved in a slight sneer, eyes strangely narrowed.

“Probably because I’ve never done anything. Besides my work. I could talk about that but then we’d just end up arguing about tools or processes and… I don’t feel like arguing right now. My bruises still hurt.” It was a lie, you felt fine. But you didn’t want to argue. Not now.

“Could have tons’a stories.” Some of Junkrat’s tension went away. “Ya just sell these and move on.”

You looked at him, confused and surprised. Technically he was right. If you could manage to sell even half of your box of pulse cores then you could go literally anywhere. Do anything. But the problem with that is that you’d end up in some house in the middle of nowhere all by yourself. It wouldn’t be any different. 

“... Junkrat. I still wouldn’t have any stories. I can’t do people. And people are everywhere.” You shrug. “I’m a shut-in. It’s what I do. I guess I could talk to you about my exciting plans for a bath.”

Junkrat chuckled. “Sure. You gonna get naked for that bath?”

“I’m gonna shove you out of this fuckin’ sidecar an’ watch you tumble in the dust an’ that’ll be ma story. What happened ta Junkrat they’ll say. Well, I shoved him outta sidecar goin’ who knows how fast and m’pretty sure he died.” You would punch him if you weren’t holding the boxes. You settled with knocking your shoulder into his. He shook with laughter, even more so when you tried it again.

“Hey.” Roadhog looked over at the two of you and shook his head. “Stop that. Went to Hollywood once. Big city. It had its bad areas. Crime. Desperate people. Wasn’t as fancy as the movies made it look. Nothing’s as good as people make it sound.”

Roadhog went silent after the longest you’ve heard him talk so far. He finally nodded. “Still worth seeing.”

You wanted to pester him for more. He had a nice voice. But you can’t find the words. So you just stare head as the city’s walls rise up against the landscape, perched on the edge of a cliff. Beautiful. Terrible. Home.

It occurred to you that you didn’t plan how you were going to break away from the boys and leave. You’ve never said goodbye before. You’ve never had to. Never wanted to. You slung your bag and rifle over your shoulders, holding your box loosely in your hands. You can’t figure out how to say goodbye. That’s fine. You can, however, leave instructions. It’s not. Emotionally sound. But it’s the best you have.

“Remember, they’re pulse rifle cores. Meant for rifles or bigger. Not really intended for pistols unless you plan on making some ungainly pistols. Overwatch era, perfect condition. You should probably sell them in- Actually I don’t know. Probably to other mercs. Or you could make some pretty impressive bombs.” You walk away. Feeling their eyes on your back. Feeling regret.

But you need to be home. You walk right up to the gates, flashing the medallion around your wrist.

“Let me the fuck in.”

There was chatter out of earshot, and slowly the gates open. A troupe of guards is waiting for you. Not the same that abandoned you or there would have been an incident. They escorted you quietly to the Queen’s throne room. You bow and set the box at her feet.

“Pulse rifle cores. They’re high value on the market, though I request you let me use a portion to upgrade some of your turrets. There’s other items of value I was unable to return to you due to size and weight. The plane was guarded by omnics. There’ll be some time before scavengers realize that the omnics are gone. Plenty of time for you to send a fleet, my Queen.” 

“How’d you get past the omnics?” The Queen asked.

“Lured in some strays, got them to do the work for me then left ‘em for dead.” It was a lie. But you never lied to the Queen.

For a moment you think she might have caught you, but instead, she places her hands on your dirty face and lifts your eyes to meet hers. She has a broad, proud smile on her face. “You surpassed my expectations. I knew you’d come back. I just didn’t realize you’d get the goods for me first.”

“... it was a test?” You kept the disgust pinned inward. Pushed out curiosity.

“Gotta make sure my favorites are really loyal to me. You understand, trust and all that.” The Queen patted your cheek.

“I’ll send some teams to gather up the rest. You keep these, sweet thing, make your Queen some pretty new toys.” She sits back down on her throne and it’s clear that you’re free to return to your workshop. You pick up the box of pulse cores, feeling an anger stirring in you. Even as you finally enter the sanctuary of your workshop it brews. It was just to test your loyalty. That was it. To see if you would actually come back if she let you out.

You traced your fingers against the box. First a bath. Then it was time to see what you could build.


	14. Queen's Favorite

Building things was your favorite thing to do. Tinkering was a passion. But damn if you didn’t enjoy cleaning. Cleaning yourself. Cleaning your tools. Cleaning your workshop. You scrubbed and scrubbed every bit of dirt and dust out off yourself and every surface you could get your fingers on. You were clean. Everything was clean. So blissfully clean.

When you’d finally taken off several layers of skin and practically rolled yourself in disinfectant, you sat down to build. You’d found so many problems with your drones when they were out in the wastes. They were too slow. The tasers took too long to charge and the shots weren’t powerful enough to be worth the wait. They were useless in a fight. They barely had an intimidation factor. You could do so much better. You stroked your box of pulse rifle cores. You were going to do so much better.

You broke down the drones in your storage closet. They were useless. Unless you also wanted them to blow up, but you weren’t too sure what Junkrat did that made them explode in the first place. It would be a waste though. A spectacular waste. But a waste.

The Queen had left you several gifts lately. She’d been so pleased with your returning. There was more honey, sugar, scented candles, cleaning sprays. You did love the scented candles. But there was still something so vaguely bitter about all of it. You weren’t sure why you were so insulted. You didn’t trust her from the beginning. So why would she trust your loyalty? Perhaps it was just that she inconvenienced you so much. It was dirty out there. Dangerous. Had taken forever. Perhaps it was because it didn’t make logical sense to test you. She was your protection, your source for all of your needs. What would the point in betraying her be? It was a waste of time to worry about you betraying her, and a waste of time to test you. 

Her decision just shoved you out of her control. Not entirely, but enough that you pondered. It’s not like you had an option. You were angry, but not desperate to run. You did have scented candles after all. Where did she even get these. You stared for a moment at the apple scented one burning in front of you. You’d never had an apple in your life. Applesauce maybe. But that didn’t smell like the candle. Maybe you should ask-

You threw your eyes back to the paper in front of you. Your newest designs for your drones was carefully laid out. Making good use of the smaller parts you’d taken off the plane and stowed in your tool bag, not to mention your pulse rifle cores. You’d spent the morning going over and over the designs. Checking for flaws, theorizing on anything that could go wrong, any situation that could cause problems. You were comparing your final design to your formations. Two was the bare minimum and a bad idea if one went down. Six was too many. Four had worked for you on the road formation wise, if they weren’t ineffective. But these new designs should function much better. Four should do just fine.

Your project board was bare except for the new drone design. Notes were laid out in neat sections and pinned around the main blueprint. Brightly colored strings connected notes to the design area. Perfectly organized. 

The casing wasn’t going to be pretty. You hammered thin, lightweight steel into a shape that was an almost flat dome on the top, a curved bowl for the bottom. It was a shame you couldn’t use any harvested casings off your old drones. Too small. Wouldn’t hold the firing mechanism. You worked until each drone’s outer shell was complete, not even sure if it was late or another day entirely. 

You lived your life on a schedule. You knew yourself well enough to know exactly how long it would take to build your new drones. And as much as you hated pacing yourself, it was necessary for your work to come out perfectly. Sleep. Rest. Eat. Clean.

Try not to think about. Things.

You woke up early the day you started to build the rifle like mechanism for your drones. Working with the pulse cores was a dream beyond dreams. It took a few weeks to finish the first one, testing its efficiency with trial and error. But you figured it out. Danced for joy. Immediately stopped and checked the door and window to make sure no one was peering in on your excitement. It was none of anyone’s business.

People were looking at your shop more and more. They had heard of the entire adventure, of the Queen’s precious shut-in leaving the workshop and Junkertown and returning with treasure for the Queen. You of all people had left your safety and security. It was strange. It was interesting. You were now the favored of the favored. Her Official Favorite. They wanted to catch a glimpse. It made you feel sick. You had doubled the security on your door but there were still the occasional stragglers wandering up and getting scared off by the small micro-turrets on either side of the door. 

And the guards the Queen had ordered to watch your shop. 

To watch you.

You hated being watched. Hated even the Queen looking at you. But you had to let her in. You didn’t really have another choice. Not unless you were useful. Not unless you could protect yourself. Not unless you could survive. So you kept quiet. Kept obedient. And you built.

Testing the weapons was difficult without installing them into a full drone. You had to rig a stand and a temporary firing mechanism in your tiny test room. The only room that had visible damage to the wall. It didn’t make sense to put the effort into repairing it. The weapons were powerful. Every bit as great as the old pulse rifles were hyped up to me. You sorta wish you got to see it. You heard that Overwatch had been somewhat awe-inspiring back in the day. You would have loved to get your hands on their tech. Although, technically you currently had your hands on their tech. A small piece of it, but you should consider yourself lucky. Most of the stuff was probably destroyed.

The drone motors were difficult. Mostly because you were picky and couldn’t decide which of your sketches was better. The old version functioned without flaw, just lacked in power and speed. The new version was untested and would take months of research. In the end, you just combined them. It was close enough to your old design that you knew it was reliable and different enough that you knew you would get enhanced performance. You loved the low hum, almost a rumble that came from the new engines. It wasn’t stealthy. But stealth would have cost you power or battery life that you couldn’t afford. Speed and power came before stealth. 

You felt alive. Not quite happy. But determined. Purposed. To create something better than you had before. You ignored the feeling in the back of your head. The purpose. The quiet muttering of things that you tried to hate. Friendship. Trust. Other people. Specific people. The world could burn for all you cared. It wasn’t humanity that you were alright with. Just. You know. 

Specifics.

You wish that you could still be happy with nothing but machines. Not omnics. The fucking things destroyed your homeland. Ruined everything. And besides. How were they different from people? They would look at you, same as humans. Try to touch you, same as humans. Same thing. The metal didn’t help. No, you liked true machines. The ones you built yourself. Tailored to your needs. You craved both silence and very specific noises to break it. 

You still like your workshop in Junkertown. When you take a break you think about how you really could just return to the status quo. Live your quiet happy life. You could be happy like that. You know, on some level, that you’re lying to yourself. That it can’t last forever. That everything has changed for you in ways that make you uncomfortable. The Queen should have never let you out, for your benefit and hers.

Oh well. It’s taken you a few months but you’ve managed to soothe your feelings with the sweet satisfaction of a completed work. Your new drones are amazing. Ugly. But amazing. You lean on your workbench, tracing your fingers against the control panel on your forearm, watching the drones zip around your workspace. Perfect precision. Elegant fliers. Armed with powerful pulse shots. Oh yes. You’ve fixed this problem.

You step to your workshop door, peering not through the tiny slot but through the camera you’d installed as a palate cleanser a few weeks ago. The guards were still there. Far enough that they didn’t trigger your microturrets. Close enough that they could see the door, your little workshop window, and the window for your apartment. Watching you. Probably reporting to the Queen on anything that they saw. 

Junkrat was right. The Queen has no intentions of letting you back out of your workshop. It’s just, unfortunately for both her and you, you now very much want out. The drones hum behind you and you smile.

She shouldn’t have let you keep those cores.


	15. Bad Idea

You were doing this.

You weren’t doing this.

You were doing this.

You weren’t doing this.

You argued with yourself for hours. Back and forth. It wasn’t a good idea. You were going to suffer. Things were going to suck. If you stood still, did as you were told, ignored the guards, then you would have anything you could want. Sweets. Cleanliness. Tools. It could be great. If you went ahead with your foolish, overthought, overworked plan you would lose all of it. Whether the plan worked or not. You would lose everything.

But it would be worth it if it worked. If, it worked. You were clever and competent but your plan involved… variables. Beyond your control or your prediction. It wasn’t a good idea. And yet, here you were. Doing it.

You carefully packed your bag. Unused pulse cores at the bottom. Extra drone parts. Then all your best tools. A large canteen. First aid supplies. Some gold. You layered on your sturdiest clothes with some new leather armor you’d sewn yourself. It was sturdy enough. Not bulletproof. But you didn’t intend to let anyone shoot you. 

Time to engage in the ancient, honored Junker tradition of highly unrecommended life choices.

You opened the door, bag slung over your shoulders, looking annoyed as you possibly could. Your drones circled lazily around you and you immediately cast a disgusted snarl at your guards. “Are you the ones she sent to escort me?” 

They look taken aback. Good. You charged past them with a haughty stomp. “You better be capable of protecting me this late. I can’t believe the incompetents at the gate keep damaging my turrets. They're perfectly built. What are they doing, filthy animals.”

The guards followed you, rifles up and scanning the dark streets of Junkertown for anyone looking to curiously at you. The streets were as empty as you knew they’d be. Going at morning would’ve made the second part of your plan easier but you would have never made it that far. Junkertown would’ve been stirred up like a hornet’s nest. This way was quieter. Plus fewer people could look at you and that was always preferable. 

You folded your arms against yourself, subtly tapping commands to your drones as you walked. They expanded their circle and went higher, above your head. They slid into a single line as you climbed the stairs. One guard went in front of you, one behind. You adjusted your commands.

“Hey, what are you doin’ up here.” One of the night guards glowered suspiciously at your escort. 

“Queen sent for the Mechanic. Said the turrets were damaged.” The front escort shrugged.

“The turrets aren’t damaged are you talking about?” There were two guards on the balcony. Two escorts. Four drones. This was easier than you hoped for. You didn’t bother responding when your escort turned to question you. A single press of a button and your drones followed through with your commands. Pulse rifle shots can be pretty quiet when handled correctly. Sure you just killed a few people but hey. You really didn’t care. You took the time to shove the bodies over the side, just to confuse the next guards.

You set your drones back into defense mode, hovering close to you as you ran down the stairs and opened one of the smaller side gates. You broke the lock, closing it behind you and the drones before bolting. You had about 10 minutes, maybe, before the Queen switched out the guards. Not too bad given the small size of the shack cluster but. You didn’t want to linger.

Your mind kept whispering in your ear, driving you forward and threatening to push you back at the same time. You could still turn back. Still live a perfectly nice life with honey and chocolate and building things all day. You could go back to your workshop and draft up a full design for a new battle bot. Maybe give it some saw blades, and definitely keep using those pulse cores. Maybe even rig one into a canon situation? You could. You really could.

But you really, really wanted to see this through.

You hesitated before you stepped up to the last shack at the end of the road. You didn’t want to get all this way only to trigger a trap. You were also. Nervous. This was a bad idea. That probably wasn’t going to pan out. You could sneak back into Junkertown and complain that the guards were talking and ruining your sleep and that’s why you killed them. Which… actually would work quite well. 

At least, try.

You knocked on the door as loud as you could, impatiently tapping your foot as you waited for one of them to wake up. If they were both home. A loud bang, a crash, and the sound of furious cursing told you that yes. Junkrat was home. And if he was home, Roadhog was home. 

“Oi, we told ya we’d decide in tha morni- oh. It’s you.” Junkrat blinked in sleepy surprise, giving you a slow, lazy grin. “Ol Queenie has another job for ya huh? Ya need ol’ Junkrat and Roadhog to give ya a hand?”

Words were bullshit. None of them were coming to you and you really needed them. This is why you hated talking to people. Because it was hard and confusing and exposing and exposure was. Death. Everything was death. So you didn’t say anything. You just stared at him blankly for a second before lifting up your wrist. Your fingers were surprisingly steady as they undid the fastener to your cuff. You were terrified. You should be shaking. Instead, you held the Queen’s cuff in your hand for just a second before you let it drop to the ground with surprising conviction. 

Junkrat seemed to snap awake with an excited cackle. He lept forward to examine your cuffless wrist. It felt strange. Exposed. Unsettling. His metal hand clamped over the empty space and he dragged you into their shack with another loud laugh.

“Oi Roadie! Look!” He dragged you straight to the bed Roadhog was sitting on, wiggling your arm in front of Roadhog’s face. Roadhog was silent as he stared. Enough that your discomfort doubled. Roadhog snatched your arm out of Junkrat’s hand and seemed to closely examine the empty space.

“She’ll kill you for this.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. She’d kill you for less. She almost did kill you via throwing you into the wastes alone. If anything, you were at least choosing her wrath willingly. Which was, a horrible decision. These two were bad influences.

“She’ll find you here.” He was louder, turning to look at Junkrat as he spoke. Maybe. Who knows where he was looking at. His mask might have some mirrored lens system he might be looking at you still. 

“I uh, was, gonna build anotha shop, somewhere out there. Wasn’t gonna impose on ya or nothin’.” You tried to fight your skin flushing or the heat rising up your neck.

“Nah. You’ll come with us.” Junkrat nodded at Roadhog. He hobbled away and showed up with a blanket that he threw over a couch. “We’re leavin’ first thing in the morning.”

“... Leaving, where?” Oh you didn’t like the sound of that.

“Overwatch.” Roadhog let your arm go and pointed at the couch. “Get some rest.”

“Overwatch? What it’s, gone.” You walked to the couch anyway, ordering your drones into sleep mode on the ground around it. Junkrat fiddled with his security bombs before heading back towards his bed.

“Not anymore it aint! And they’re payin’! If they need us, they’ll take you.” Junkrat grinned. “Yer one of us now.”

You hide your smile, lying down and turning to face the back of the couch. You almost immediately want to jump up. "Wait you want me ta Leave Australia?!"

"It'll be fine. Go to sleep." Roadhog grumbled. Well. Looks like you were really going to face your fears. Not alone, anyway. You forced yourself to lie down, trying to pretend you weren't afraid.

You could hear Junkrat giggling as he crawled into bed. It died down just long enough for you to think he fell asleep. As you were drifting off you heard him start to laugh again.

“Hey Roadie. We stole from the Queen again. Think she’ll be mad?”

“Fuck the Queen.”

You stifled your laugh. Yeah. Fuck the Queen.


	16. A Matter of a Pinion

It feels like you barely had the chance to close your eyes before Roadhog shakes you awake. You yawn, folding the blanket you’d been using and leaving it neatly on the couch. You tap on your forearm and the drones lift into the air and out of the way.

Junkrat has packed all of his materials into several large, badly patched cases, bags, and crates. You have the fiercest urge to reorganize it and the strangest feeling that you would be allowed to. If you wanted to get blown up. You weren’t particularly interested in that. Though it was, so sooty. It was like he kept a bag of soot around to smear on anything that didn’t already have enough. Oh well. It’s not you can chase him down with a scrub brush. Not without assistance. Squirrely fuck.

Roadhog’s outside with his motorcycle talking to someone with a bright, excited voice. You are not excited to leave the shack and face the owner of that voice. The touching was coming from over the horizon. Waiting. Lurking. A terrifying predator that was probably going to get its hands on your hands. Fun.

You pulled your bag over your shoulder, hesitantly offering your arms to carry one of Junkrat’s boxes. They can’t touch your hands if you’re carrying a box. Roadhog came in just in time, dragging you away from a snickering Junkrat and handing you a large box of his motorcycle parts. You followed him out of the building, safe behind Roadhog’s height. Can’t touch you if they can’t see you either.

“Oh, who’s this?”

Motherfucker. The young woman danced around Roadhog, smiling at you. 

“Mechanic.” Roadhog said gruffly, pushing you towards the … plane. He wanted you to get on a plane. You’ve never been up high before. Or in a closed vehicle before. But Roadhog had shuffled you in and directed you to a seat before you had much of a chance to argue. You glowered at him. A tap on your arm and your drones settled in on one of the tables. Not sure if they would be alright there. You hoped so.

The woman appeared back in the plane in a flash of blue light, nearly dancing in place while she watched you from the other side of the plane. You didn’t even realize there was someone with her until you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. You stared at the ground in front of you. Kept quiet. Hoped that you were less interesting than Junkrat and his boxes.

You relaxed when Junkrat settled him and his 80 feet of limbs next to you, then Roadhog next to him. If they could see you at all it would be a miracle. You sighed, your grip on the chair arms relaxing slightly. 

“Never flown before?” Junkrat teased, grinning like he wasn’t about to lose more of his teeth.

“Shut the fuck up Junkrat.” You whispered. You weren’t particularly interested in arguing with Junkrat in front of strangers. Or talking in front of strangers. Or doing anything that reminded them of your presence. Junkrat didn’t seem to share that discomfort. He cackled and threw an arm over your shoulders. You slowly turned to glare into his eyes. Restrained anger versus endless amusement. Oh. You were gonna kick his ass.

You fidgeted with your hands, your fingers twining and untwining. It was a struggle to keep your anxiety on the low side. You were in a flying metal box. Which, was not as bad as you thought it would be. But you were still flying, and you were flying to a complete unknown. At least you had these two. For now at least. There was still a part of you waiting for the pin to drop. Which didn’t seem really fair to them. You just couldn’t help it. But keeping up your trust issues could only help you now. About to be surrounded by strangers in a strange place, with no solid ground under your feet. So to speak. You really hoped their base was on the ground. You just wish you had a shop to work out of. And stay in. Forever.

There’s a jangle of spurs and the smell of cigar smoke coming from the seat opposite yours. “This one wasn’t on the posters.”

“Heeey eyes to yaself. Our mechanic aint friendly.” Junkrat warned. Though it probably didn’t work, given that his arm was still lounging against you. You looked up to emphasize the comment with a deep scowl. He was tall and missing an arm, same as Junkrat. Watching you as he smoked a cigar. You narrowed your eyes at him, glaring at until he finally shifted his gaze to Junkrat.

“Guess so. Name’s McCree.”

“Junkrat! And this here’s Roadhog.” Junkrat motioned towards Roadhog.

“And you?” McCree was back to you. And you were back to looking angry.

“I aint tellin’ ya ma name.” You hissed.

Roadhog sighed deeply. “Pinion.”

“Wot.” You switched to glaring at him. 

“Your name is Pinion?”

“Aint talkin’ to ya.” You snap at McCree.

“Flies birds.” Roadhog pointed at the table bearing your drones. McCree looks at them and nods in understanding. That’s kind of clever. You kind of like it. You managed to keep your surprise hidden between your growing annoyance at the conversation. You would very much like them to stop talking about you. Or, at least, McCree to stop talking about you. And looking at you. And being in your sightline. The cigar smoke is clouding the air like smog.

“Didn’t have ta tell ‘im that.” You muttered, sulking into your chair. You appreciated the cover though. You would tell Roadhog later. When there’s no one around. Not to mention the pilot, who you’ve barely remembered, and is probably listening in on the conversation. So much unwanted attention. So little opportunity to avoid it. Just a little while longer. Hopefully you would only be in the train a little while longer.

“Thinks we kidnapped ya.” Junkrat whispered in your ear. Or as much of a whisper as he’s capable of. He, he did not really whisper. The whole plane heard him. You snapped your head back up with a silent snarl. Flipped McCree off just to finish the sentiment. Junkrat howled with laughter and took his arm off your shoulder to hold himself in glee. 

“Almost there, let’s all be friendly!” The pilot called out. You sighed crossed your arms, glaring at the floor in front of you. Knowing that it made you look pouty. But you didn’t want to look up at a stranger looking at you. You close your eyes and try not to be so god damn tense. Your hands are back to gripping the seat. One of your feet is wiggling against the floor; the tapping sound is making you more tense but you can’t stop moving. It's a viscious cycle of go fuck yourself.

It’s a blessing when the plane slides into a hangar, in a mountain. Your drones spin back to life, following you as you nearly throw yourself out of the plane. You nearly jump back in when you notice you’re face to face with a gorilla. Wearing… glasses. And clothes. That Australia radiation sure is something you are, you have got to be hallucinating.

“Hello, and you are?” Oh, he speaks too. That’s normal. Gorillas do that.

“...Pinion.” Don’t talk to your hallucinations, damnit.

“One of the Junkers.” The woman appeared in another bright blue flash and you, you are not okay with that. Or with the gorilla. Which, may or may not be real. But she’s talking to him so you assume real. You are also going to fling yourself off the nearest cliff into the sweet release of death.

“Oh, thank you Tracer. Hm, we only had two rooms ready, you may have to stay in the bunkroom. I’m Winston, by the way.” Winston said, apparently with his very real mouth. This was strange. You aren’t sure how you feel about that.

“Roadhog and I’ll share a room,” Junkrat announced, then he grinned at you. “Don’t want ya murderin’ anybody.”

You opened your mouth to make a comment but then snapped it shut. You did not, wanna keep talking. To anybody. Anymore. You have lost your patience, and your desire to see other people, and would like to go hide in a closet. Or perhaps a large tool box.

“That’ll work nicely. Thank you for joining us, I know you’ll be great for the team.” Winston smiles and seems to notice your drones whirring above your head. “Did you build those?”

You just nodded. No more talking. Not right now.

“Perfect, we could use another engineer! We’ll see about setting you up in the workshops.” Winston said, standing a bit taller to examine the drones. You directed them down to his eye level. There was the smallest smile on your face. You wouldn’t call yourself an engineer but a workshop would be fantastic. You could go from one box to another. Except this one, this one would have Roadhog and Junkrat in it. Not all the time. But sometimes.


	17. Sweets

Your workshop is smaller than the one back home, but you don’t need most of the space. Spare parts and extra tools are all stored in one shared storage room. You’ve spent the past two weeks going over every inch of the storage room with a fine tooth comb. It’s never been cleaner or more organized. Being that you share it with Junkrat, you give it about two days before it needs another reorganizing.

Your workboard is covered with blueprints of the plane. More interestingly, your computer is filled with more blueprints of the individual parts. A real, working holoscreen. You had never seen one before. You took to it like a dying man to water. You could program your drones with far more sophisticated maneuvers, and that was the least you could do. For now you studied, sending a single notice to Winston that you were ready for work orders. That was the absolute best part of having a holoscreen computer. You could just, send messages. No face to face contact. Not even talking. You hadn’t talked to another person in four days. It was the best.

Though you did want to chat with your Junkers. You’d been waking up early and leaving late to avoid the rest of Overwatch. Which meant you missed them too. Sometimes Junkrat was still in his workshop, fiddling with his bombs, and that was your only opportunity to have a chat. You wanted to hang out with him and Roadhog for a bit. Which meant the unthinkable. Leaving your workshop. What was it with those two and making you leave your shops.

You shoved your head out the door, slowly glancing from side to side. No one so far. You sent a drone out ahead of you. Only one though. Just to give you a heads up that someone was going to come. And that someone might want to talk to you. Terrifying.

Junkrat wasn’t in his workshop. Your only other option was their room. You had no idea where anything else was in the base. Kitchen? No idea. Roadhog kept bringing you food. Threatening under his breath to drag you to the mess hall. You also didn’t know where that was. You didn’t know where the laundry was. Which you would need soon. Or the medical area. Which you should have been days ago if your many emails from a “Dr. Angela Ziegler” were any indication. You weren’t even sure where the hangar was.

It was a thankfully quiet walk leading towards the dorm rooms. They weren’t big rooms either, or private. But they were well insulated. You could barely hear it if someone were to shout right at your door. You were thrilled, frankly. You didn’t enjoy the sound of someone else’s conversation any more than you enjoyed being part of it. 

You pounded on their door for a good five minutes. They weren’t in there either. Just when you were beginning to feel homesick too. You sighed, crossing your arms and leaning against the door. Your drone began to beep. Someone was coming towards you. 

Despite beelining for your door they still caught sight of you as they moved forward. An omnic. A, floating omnic. Do omnics float. Is that a regular thing. You’ve only seen a handful of omnics, not enough to know if that was normal or not. You made a face at the ground. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. An omnic counted as anyone. 

“Oh, hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.” The voice was metallic and… soft? Could omnics be soft spoken? Wait no, you don’t care. You wiggled your arm in a way that could be seen as a wave if the omnic were capable of squinting. You didn’t want to talk to it. Certainly didn’t want it to look at you. Or touch you. Omnics were the same as people. So damn touchy. You squeezed against your door as you tried to tap the code in.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention.” The omnic was still speaking to you. You glanced over your shoulder as your door slid open. It wasn’t looking at you. It was looking ahead, and could possibly be looking at you through the corner of its… eye...slits? But it wasn’t looking directly at you. Huh.

“Not just you, mate.” You said softly. “Don’t really like anybody.”

“I see. My name is Zenyatta.” Zenyatta...Hm.

“Pinion.” You said quickly before your door closed. Safe. No more conversation. Though you were still at square one in terms of finding your friends. Of course you would have difficulty finding them once you decided to let some in. 

You could ask Athena. But Athena was just another type of person. And if you asked for her in your room, you were basically letting her in your room. And then she would just. Be there. In your room. Talking to you. You shuddered. All three of you had searched both rooms for cameras before settling in. So you couldn’t actually be looked at. Listened to maybe. Through the holoscreen hanging on the wall. Another work area. You felt a bit better opening up your blueprints. You could work in here for the day.

It’s relaxing. You would like to get hands-on with the plane, but for now you’re getting a pretty thorough grasp of its inner workings. You could repair it if it needed repair. It’ll probably need regular maintenance. You send Winston a message asking him what the current schedule is so you can work out your own care calendar.

Your silence is interrupted by a loud incessant knocking that could only be one person. Sure enough, Junkrat is standing in front of your door with a broad grin. He marches into your room followed by Roadhog, dropping into a heap on your bed.

“Went ta town!” He announced. 

“We knew you wouldn’t like it. Brought you this.” Roadhog handed you a paper bag and a cup before he sat next to Junkrat. You scooted your desk chair closer to the bed and opened the bag. There was a pastry in a plastic container there, covered in a sticky glaze and almonds. You set the cup on your desk, pinching the sweet and popping it into your mouth. Honey, it was full of honey. You could die right now. Nothing else will be this great.

“Holy fuck.” You mutter, licking the honey off your fingers before pinching another piece.

“Knew ya’d like that!” Junkrat grinned. “Whatcha doin’ in here anyway, looked in yer shop.” 

“Oh, I was looking for you.” You smiled after a bite of the bread. “Figured a week was long enough to go without saying Hello.”

This was the best sweet you’d ever eaten. You don’t remember mentioning your love of honey at any point in time. Which meant this had to have been a really lucky guess. The almonds were so crunch. So amazing. It was so dang sweet. 

“Must be real good if you’re ignorin’ us.” Junkrat smirked. 

“Junkrat I’d ignore you for a stale potato chip.” You teased, taking another bite and humming. 

“Hurtful, afta all that work Roadie and me put into pickin’ the right sweet. I should take it back,” You recognized the glint in Junkrat’s eye and raised your leg to keep him from reaching out and snagging the bread.

“Don’t fight and eat at the same time.” Roadhog warned, pushing your leg down and pulling Junkrat back.

“Can we fight after I eat?” You laugh.

“... No.” Roadhog’s voice was warmer. You polished off your sweet with a wiggle. 

“Thank you.”

“Try the tea! Careful for the bubbles though.” Junkrat pointed at the cup. You squinted at it and then glanced at him.

“Bubbles?”

“Bubbles.”

You cleaned your hands with a little wet cloth, you fuckin’ loved those things, and stuck the straw into the clear cup filled with creamy tan liquid. You hesitantly took a sip, surprised when some chewy ball thing popped into your mouth. It was delicious fucking tea. With, weird chewy bits. Nice and sweet though. You swallowed the chewy thing and shrugged. “Pretty good.”

“Had ‘em put loads of sugar. Too sweet fa me.” Junkrat looked triumphant. Tea must have been his idea. You’re guessing the bread was Roadhog’s.

“You don’t like sweets?” Absurd. Nothing was better than sweets.

“I do, just not too sweet. If I liked the real sweet stuff I wouldn’t want ta hang out with you.” Junkrat laughed and fell backward onto the bed. You made a face and kicked him.

“Oh fuck off.” You smiled and took another drink of your tea. The, bubbles? Were pretty good. Your junkers had good taste. You smiled at them.

"So tell me about the town. Cause I aint goin' out there."

"After ya kick me?" Junkrat tried to look offended. You aimed another kick at him and he somehow found a way to pull all his limbs onto the half of the bed he was lounging on. 

"Fine, fine. It aint big, but it's a touristy sorta place..."


	18. Checkup

You would like to say that you got up early to get to work but the truth was you hadn’t slept at all. You couldn’t. You had the best idea of your life and finally, you had access to the knowledge and information to chase it down on a whim. You could do it. So why not do it? Your eyes were glued to the holoscreen, sketches of your plans neatly laid out across your pinboard next to you. You were hungry, a little thirsty, and in sore need of a shower. But you were on a roll. 

It started with your arm mounted control console. At first you only intended to improve the design. But once you started going through the old overwatch archives you started finding far more interesting things. Of course you could improve the looks alone. But what about functionality? Why start with a coat of paint and ignore the frame? There was so much you could do. You could build a better, faster computer in a smaller space. Fit it into a more comfortable layout. And then with the smaller computer that left you some serious real estate for additional uses. Four drones was an optimal number but what if one was destroyed in a fight? What if you needed to make more, quickly?

You were so excited, so deep into your thoughts, that you didn’t hear the pounding at your workshop door. You also didn’t notice that the door had opened. Because you forgot that you programmed both your dorm room and workshop to only be opened by yourself, and your junkers. So you had no idea Roadhog was angrily looming behind you.

Not until he yanked you off your desk and threw you over his shoulder.

“Mate! What the hell! I was workin!” You shout, trying to wiggle your way out of his grip. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re well aware that you’re not getting off his shoulder unless he wants you too. And clearly, he doesn’t. You give up pretty quickly.

“Doc says you haven’t seen her yet.” Roadhog grumbles.

“No, I was busy. Gettin’ acquainted with my surroundings. Working. I have these ideas-”

“It’s been a month.”

“... Alright, so maybe I don’t want to chat with the rest of the organization. If I do the work how’s that a bad thing?” You sigh. You really don’t want to see any people. Or more importantly, have other people see you. Especially not a doctor whose literal job it is to touch you. At least this doctor would probably be clean. Small positive.

“The radiation. She can treat it.” Roadhog snarls. Oh yeah. You forgot about that. It was pretty easy when you spent most of your life surrounded by others in the same situation. This was the first time your situation was out of the ordinary. You relax, trying not to think of the impending touching that was about to happen. The staring. Fuck. This is going to be awful.

The medical wing is a glitteringly clean space. One of the few that have been fully renovated and repaired. Roadhog drops you down in an exam room and plops himself into one of the chairs in the corner. 

“Oh, did you want your friend to stay?” A blonde woman strolls in that you assume must be the Dr. Ziegler who’s been sending you increasingly agitated emails. Part of you wanted to see if she would start sending you letters peppered with curses if you stood away any longer. She might’ve if Roadhog didn’t come drag you from your plans. She was soft looking. Not a hair out of place or a violent bone in her body. 

“Stayin’ till the clothes come off,” Roadhog answered for you. Although that. That alarmed you.

“Watcha mean till the clothes come off.” You stared at him.

“Just for the scans. You’ll have a medical robe for it. We’ll try to save that for last.” Doc promised. You didn’t want to be alone with her in the first place; being alone and naked was just torture at that point. You sighed.

“Put your hand here, this machine will take your vitals. Hands-free.” Doc smiled, wiggling her gloved hands at you. Your junkers must have had conversations with her. About the touching. You glanced over your shoulder while the machine worked. Roadhog’s empty mask stared back at you. He must have had to take it off for his exam. He understood. 

“I’m going to touch your arm to do the blood draws.” Doc dabbed cleaning solution on your arm before pulling out the needles. She warned you every step of the way. Whenever direct contact was going to be made. It was nice. You wouldn’t say that you were warming up to her. It just wasn’t as bad as it normally would be. You spent hours in that room, moving just once to test your vision before going right back in. She left you to fill in answers on a questionnaire while she went to go prep the scan machines. You let out a relieved sigh. As nice as she seemed you felt better with her gone.

“...Thanks for staying Roadhog.” You mutter as you tap out your answers.

“Figured you’d hit her and make a run for it.” He explained. You laughed and almost dropped the tablet.

“Fair enough.” You smiled, finishing the questionnaire and putting it down on the counter. The room was silent, save for the sound of Roadhog’s breathing. But it was nice. Comfortable. You would have to find some way to thank him for staying with you. He didn’t have to. And really shouldn’t. Eventually, you would have to be more than the ghost that haunts the workshops. When Doc came back with a thin paper gown you sighed. Time for the worst possible activity. Roadhog stood up and touched your shoulder for just a second.

“I’ll be right outside.” He offered before leaving. 

“You three remind me of how Overwatch used to be.” Doc mused, turning around so you could undress in private. “We all used to be so close. The best of friends. Ah well, life goes on. The only thing we can do is make the future better. Are you ready?”

You grunted in confirmation. You wish there was still an opportunity to bolt. But running into Roadhog wearing nothing but a piece of paper with some print on it was not on your list of things to do. It just seemed like a bad idea. Even if you made it past him you would still have to find your way back to your room dressed in a thin piece of paper and that seemed less fun than him catching you. So you followed her into the scan room and let the machines take whatever pictures she was looking for. 

“I’ll add you to Junkrat’s treatment appointments. It’ll be easier to handle you both at the same time.” Doc said as you redressed. It almost made you more comfortable. You were liking Doc more and more. From a distance. Another room. Another facility if possible.

“Thanks, Doc.” You adjust your vest, carefully sliding out of the door. Freedom. Back to your workshop. And your projects. Oh yes, sweet projects.

Junkrat was laughing by Roadhog’s side as you walked to them. He caught sight of you and waved. “Ol’ Doc Mercy finally caught ya huh? I was wondering when she was gonna go grab you outta your workshop.”

“It was Roadhog actually. Same result though.” You shrug. Junkrat nodded sympathetically and hooked one of his arms through yours. 

“Was on the way to test my new bombs. Wanna come?” He grinned. You did need to see where the training grounds were. Especially so you would know where to look for your Junkers if you couldn’t find them. You nodded and Junkrat took off at a surprisingly pace, dragging you at a slight jog through the halls. The Training Grounds were pretty close to the workshops. Pretty convenient. You haven’t put your new drones through their paces yet. You should before you start working on the next versions.

Roadhog carefully set a box down and Junkrat reached into it, pulling out his newest equipment and throwing it at a robot that had been turning back and forth on a track. It exploded spectacularly. But also fairly controlled. Precise. Junkrat noticed your approving grin and returned it with a grin of his own.

“Wanna see anotha?” He didn’t wait for an answer and threw it out. He almost clicked the button but seemed to think better of it. He walked over to you and offered you the trigger.

“Ya did let me blow up your drones. And ya had to get prodded. Sooo.” He pushed it into your hand. You pressed the button and watched another training robot blow up with a satisfied smile.

“Thanks, mate.” You handed the spent trigger back to him and got another grin.

“Anytime!”


	19. The Omnic is sorta Ok

You were fucking starving.

Roadhog and Junkrat were sent on a mission a few days ago and you’ve made it through your small store of snacks. You couldn’t accompany Junkrat on a midnight snack raid if he wasn’t there. So you had to go by yourself. It would have been a good idea to get yourself comfortable going alone a long time ago. Being with the Queen had gotten you too accustomed to relying on others. You just hadn’t realized it at the time.

You went close to midnight, hoping that everyone else was asleep. Or at least, not in the kitchen. Your skin began to tingle from nerves. You were holding your breath without meaning to. Nearly pinning yourself to the wall and scraping forward to avoid being seen. You didn’t realize there was someone else in the hall until a bright yellow glow appeared above you. 

And then you started to feel calm.

“I hope it’s alright; I wanted to help.”

Zenyatta had been in a side path. He floated out into the same hallway, keeping his face turned away from you. You didn’t know much about him. Junkrat called him a creepy floating bucket of bolts. Roadhog just told you to steer clear. But he wasn’t looking at you. And you did feel better. You rubbed your arms and shrugged.

“Thanks.”

“I was taking a walk to clear my mind. Would you like to accompany me?” Zenyatta offered. You did feel a lot better. And you did need to get used to other members of the organization. Especially one that might need your repairs in the future. You nodded and then remembered he wasn’t looking at you.

“Jus’ as far as the kitchens.” You muttered. There was no need to be too friendly. Your friend list was very exclusive. And closed. Though the last time you denied making friends too hard you ended up leaving your entire life behind and joining an illegal organization of vigilantes so. Perhaps just be calm. Be polite. Pretend like you didn’t live your entire life in an apocalyptic wasteland and that your social skills were learned entirely from the population of Junkertown. It explained a lot.

Neither of you spoke as you walked. It wasn’t the same easy silence that you enjoyed when you were with Roadhog. But there was a sense of peace. Probably from the glowing yellow ball still shining above your shoulder.

“So… What is this?” You asked finally, pointing up.

“I have manifested an orb of harmony to give you peace. You do not seem happy without your friends.” Zenyatta explained. That didn’t really explain what it was. Other than calling it an orb of harmony. Some sort of energy formation clearly. It had a mental effect on you. But you weren’t interested in medical sciences. Unless they pertain to building prosthetics and even then. So you had no idea how this was working. Eventually, you didn’t care. Better than the pinpricks in your skin.

Zenyatta lead the way into the mess hall. You sighed as you noticed that it wasn’t as empty as you hoped. A young woman was pouring over a tablet with a little floating robot beeping near her. Another omnic was standing near an unhappy looking man holding a cup of tea. Another one of Zenyatta’s harmony orbs appeared over the man, who glowered in his direction. 

“Master, who is this?” The other omnic asked. He wasn’t floating. That was interesting. Zenyatta was unique then? Or maybe it was a question of models? You didn’t think you could actually ask. 

“This is Pinion. Pinion, this is my student Genji and his brother, Hanzo.” Zenyatta motioned. Oh, so the other omnic wasn’t an omnic? Or maybe he was. You didn’t care about their family situation. You really just cared about grabbing something edible and running back to the safety of your workshop. If you carried some tools to your dorm you could stay there the whole time. Or you could put some blankets in your workshop. But you couldn’t bathe in there. Not currently.

“Hello. I’m just going to…” You said slowly, sliding past them and disappearing into the luckily empty kitchen. You could hear them talking as you began to fix yourself a meal. Something sweet.

“-dressed like those delinquents.” a new voice remarked. Must be Hanzo. Talking about your Junkers. Sounded a little too disgusted for your liking. Also a little too familiar in his disgust. To be fair, Junkrat is a filthy delinquent. But he is your filthy delinquent. So fuck Hanzo.

“McCree mentioned three of them. Where has this one been?” Genji asked.

“Pinion seems very cautious around others. We should show kindness and patience. Eventually Pinion will be comfortable coming around us.” Zenyatta answered. He seemed respectful. Nice. Probably had something under his...sle..eve. He was not wearing sleeves. Under his beads? You didn’t trust him, is the point. 

You carefully made a sandwich, everything perfectly centered on the bread and cut evenly down the diagonal. Cleaned the knife under hot water before you put it in the dishwasher. You scrubbed the counter and swept the floor while you were at it. Crumbs fell. You had to. It took you longer than you intended but at least you left the kitchen cleaner than you found it. Which reminded you, the storage room was due for a cleaning. And Winston told you a new engineer was on the way. You didn’t want them to think you were disorganized. Actually, you didn’t want them to think of you at all but this was apparently one of Overwatch’s star engineers and that sounded like you were getting a supervisor.

Zenyatta was gone, as was Genji, when you got out. Hanzo was still in there, flashing a distrustful look at you when you walked out of the kitchen. Which was fine, you gave him the exact same look. 

“You work with Roadhog and Junkrat. What is it that you do? Why are you not with them?” Hanzo questioned. Suspicion hung in the air and you regarded him with dry annoyance. Why was he even trying to talk to you. You weren’t interested in making conversation. This is why you didn’t leave your workshop if you could help it. People were outside of your workshop. Awful fucking people.

“I build machines. As for the mission, Winston didn’t assign me to it. That’s how assignments work.” You said slowly, letting a sneer flicker onto your face before you melted back into passive disdain. 

Hanzo hmph’d at you with equal disdain. This was it. Two snotty assholes, hmph’ing at each other. The start of a beautiful work relationship. It would go smoothly until one of you figured out what really made the other one pissed and then it would dissolve into a nasty fist fight. Or at least, that’s how it worked in Junkertown. Maybe it was different. Maybe if you were friendly and spoke pleasantly then the two of you could become friends. Or maybe he could go fuck himself. 

Either worked.


	20. Home Safe

You’re surprised how fast time goes, even with your Junkers gone. You dedicate yourself to your work, cleaning the storage room and prepping a new workshop. You fiddle with your blueprints in between double and triple checking for any possible errors. Your current gear suffices but this gear will flourish. You’re not terribly excited about the idea of leaving your office for any reason but Overwatch is short staffed. If Doc has to take the field it’s only a matter of time before you do too.

“Excuse me Pinion, but Winston is outside your workshop with Mr. Lindholm. Could you please open the door?” Athena’s voice broke you from your concentration. You feel lightheaded enough to wonder if you remembered to drink anything today. Should probably head to the mess hall before you pass out. You ran a hand through your hair as you opened the door.

“Yes?” You said, looking down to notice the short man staring at you intently. He looked past you into your workshop, though he didn’t actually go in.

“Pinion, this is our new lead engineer. He used to hold the same title in the old Overwatch. Torbjorn Lindholm. Torbjorn, this is one of our other engineers, Pinion.” Winston introduced, motioning to the man at his side.

“Mind if I come in there and take a look at those blueprints?” Lindholm asked, pointing towards your pinboard. You stared at him in silence for a few beats. He didn’t seem to care much to look at you. Just your work. You could respect that, even if you didn’t like the idea of him being in your workshop. Especially not without your Junkers. But Winston is there, and while you don’t like him any more than you like Lindholm, you let your new boss in. He goes straight for the pinboard and stares at the layouts.

“These are good. What school you go to?” Lindholm took his time looking at each blueprint. 

“Didn’t. I’m from Australia. The waste.” You felt some bit of pride in that. A pride that grew at the wide smile Lindholm threw your way before going back to your blueprints.

“Haha! Self taught, I like that. You and I are gonna get along great. Call me Torbjorn, good to meet ya.” Torbjorn laughed. He held out his hand and you sighed inwardly. Why did people like touching so much? You hesitantly gave his hand a small shake, withdrawing as quickly as you could. You felt so uncomfortable. At least he appreciated your work though. That was nice.

“I believe Pinion set a workshop up for you over here, Torbjorn.” Winston drew Torbjorn out of your workshop, guiding him to the door to the ‘main’ workshop next to the storage room. Leaving you almost blissfully alone. Almost. 

Tracer was hovering at the door, eyeing an incredibly large cardboard box. “Hi Pins! This is for you? What’d you order?”

Pins?

“Thank you. It’s somethin’ for Roadhog.” You attempted to pick up the box, frowning when you realized it was too ungainly to lift. You shrugged and pushed it out into the hallway. 

“What is it?” Tracer blinked around you, either unaware of your personal space needs or unconcerned. You kept yourself together and just kept pushing the box.

“A surprise for him. Nothing fancy.” You masked your growing discomfort with silence, pushing the box as Tracer blinked around you. She kept opening her mouth to talk, stopping, and blinking to your other side. It was unsettling. It took far too long for her to stop blinking and walk alongside you quietly. 

“We should be friends.” Tracer decided. You glanced warily at her. She smiled at you and nodded. “We should!”

You nervously kept your eye on her, flinching away when she tried to reach her hand out to you. You did not like that. Why were people always trying to touch each other? And no one asked first. Except Doc. But for the most part everyone just always seemed to like to have their hands on each other. You didn’t even know where Tracer’s hands have been. She doesn’t seem covered with dirt like Junkrat but she could have oil or a weird lotion or something. You just, would like her to not touch you. 

Tracer didn’t seem too upset by your flinch. She stepped a little further away from you and hummed. She was too much. The movement, the glowing. Way too much. You missed your Junkers. You didn’t think you would be seeking out the smell of soot.

You were so relieved to see their door. You tapped in the code that let you into your Junkers’ room, giving Tracer a little wave. “Um… Thanks. Bye.”

The door closes behind you and you’re safe. You don’t really like being in their room when they’re not there, even though you would love to clean it up a bit. You also avoid going into Junkrat’s workshop without him. But there was a familiar peace to being in there. Little signs of their presence. The next best thing to them being there with you.

You grabbed a screwdriver, using it to cut open the tape on the top of the box. You had been searching for a way to thank Roadhog for helping you with Doc. Junkrat was easy enough to please. A spare part here, some tea there, scrapping with him in the training yard. Roadhog had been a little harder. A bit of thought, some guessing, and making yourself talk to coworkers to help you get the thing on base. You really, really hoped Roadhog would like it.

You weren’t sure what the fuck this thing was.

It looked, like a giant onion. With.. tentacles. You’d seen smaller plush… onions… at the Junker’s safehouse and seeing as how they weren’t on fire or covered in soot, you assumed they belonged to Roadhog. So you bought him a really, really big one. It was at least 2 feet tall, 3 feet wide. Massive. It was a massive onion thing. With tentacles.

It was… cute?

You broke down the box, jumping in surprise when the door opened. You were the only one with the code to your Junkers’ room; just like they were the only ones with the code to yours. Junkrat’s surprise at seeing you in there turned into a large beaming smile.

“Oi, now that’s what I call a welcome home.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and threw the empty box pieces at him. 

“I was tryin’ to surprise Roadhog ya-... What happened to ya fuckin' arm.” You hissed. His prosthetic was barely hanging on. Barely. You grabbed him and dragged him out of the room.

“Takin’ this one to the shop. Somethin’ for ya on the bed.” You waved at Roadhog and then stormed Junkrat through the base to your shop.

“Did ya go to see Doc, or do I need to drag you there too?” You growled as you pushed him into your workshop. The arm could be repaired but it would take time. You impatiently waited for him to remove it, handing him a replacement off your shelf.

“... Ya made me anotha’ arm?” Junkrat twisted it around, looking between you and the work.

“An exact copy. Didn’t wanna change anythin’ without permission. Now did ya go to see Doc or do I gotta drag ya.” You set the damaged arm on your work table, rearranging your schedule on your holodesk to clear for the repairs. That would get done first.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” Junkrat snapped the new arm in place, wiggling his fingers. “Not bad.”

You sighed. You hadn’t considered that either of them might get physically hurt on their mission. That wasn’t anxiety you needed. You had plenty on your own. You didn’t order the bonus package. No one asked for this. And yet, you felt relieved knowing it was only his prosthetic that was damaged.

“Shit, was Hog okay?” You hadn’t taken a close look.

“Yeah, what’d ya get ‘im anyway?” Junkrat hopped off the work table he’d been sitting on, following you out the door. You could work fixing his old arm in the morning. You wanted to spend some time with them for now.

“He’s into that weird onion thing, isn’t he?” You asked.

“Yeah, Pachimari.”

“I bought him a really, really big one.” You motioned with your hands. Maybe it was too big. You hadn’t considered where they were going to keep it. Oh well. They could always blow it up if they were so inclined. You hesitated following Junkrat into their room, making yourself go in just to know for sure whether he liked it or not. You didn’t need something else to agonize over.

Roadhog was sitting on the bed, hugging the thing. Hopefully a good sign? He put it down and stood up, walking to you. 

“...Thanks.”

“Welcome.” You’re relieved. He’s happy. 

Roadhog waits for a moment before leaning towards you. “Can I.”

“Hm?” You tilt your head, confused. Roadhog motioned his arms forward, towards you.

“Can I?”

“Oh.” You pause and then nod. You were okay with both of your Junkers touching you. Even if both of them were unreasonably grimy. It didn’t seem to bother you if it came from them. Roadhog pulled you close for one warm, soft moment before letting you go and settling back onto the bed. You perch on Junkrat’s desk chair, smiling when Junkrat dives into the bed and curls against Roadhog.

“I’m glad you two are back safe. If something ever happens to ya’ I’ll kill you.”

Roadhog laughed, using his new giant onion plush as a pillow. It was a nice sight. Made you smile. Your Junkers were home.


	21. Breathe Easy

“What if I do, this here and-”

“And then you use the deployment system here-”

“Perfect. It’s glorious.” You hum. You and Torbjorn have been going over your schematics all morning. It’s nice to have someone to work with. Especially since Torbjorn rarely looks directly at you and never touches you. He tends to focus in on the work, just like you. Although you do need to see Junkrat for help with your final drone adjustment. No one else will do. Besides. You just liked working with him.

“So you really intend on going out there hm? You seem happy to stay indoors all the time.” Torbjorn stepped back and took in the current incarnation of your drone designs.

“If Winston finds it necessary. I prefer not to leave my workshop. But I want to be ready for when I must.” You wheel yourself over to your workstation. Your control panel’s core components are done, what’s left is some wiring.

“Hmm… Well c’mon then.” Torbjorn left your blueprints, heading for the door. You looked at him with a small frown.

“Where?”

“Breakfast. You have to leave the shop sometimes.” Your boss was staring at you now. Stern as could be. Like you were one of his many children and you were, so help him, going to go eat breakfast in the mess hall. And damnit, you were getting up and following him. You hated the mess hall. There was always someone there. It was always sorta loud. Sometimes pretty messy. You could lose hours cleaning in there. And you were already losing hours cleaning in the kitchen.

Of course it was full of people at this time of day. Your skin was immediately crawling. It wasn’t a crowd, Overwatch barely had enough members to put in a basket, but it was more than you were comfortable with. Especially with the eyes. Most of the team didn’t know you. Or if they did, they knew you as ‘the door where you leave your broken gear and when you come back it’s fixed’. You knew you looked angry. Which you were. Damn Torbjorn and his ‘you have to eat’ mentality. You eat plenty. On your own time. Which was when everyone else was busy or in another room.

“Dad? Who’s this?” A young red-headed woman sat next to a man tall and broad enough to be the only person on earth to give Roadhog a run for his money.

“Pinion, the one next to the bombmaker’s space. Aerial drones.” Torbjorn waved his hand in the air. His daughter smiled at you and leaned forward.

“Oh, that’s you. Hi, I’m Bridgette. This is-”

“Reinhardt! It’s great to finally meet you!” The massive man is so. So loud. And so tall. And where are your Junkers right about how? You could stand for being hooked. Or blown up. Whatever was convenient. 

You half-heartedly waved and slid behind Torbjorn, passing him as dirty a look as you could in a public space. He was going to be reading a lot of interesting curse words later. Maybe even some sketches. Depends on how much honey you managed to pour into your tea before Doc sensed the sugar content and came swooping out of the medical wing like a health-conscious angel of death. 

At least honey was natural. Though you suppose that it was a bit weird that you put it in your tea. And on your toast. And on your pears. And on your sausages. Yes it was strange and yes you really liked honey. This is why you don’t get food when everyone else is in the mess hall. You try to leave through the side door but there’s your boss, holding his own food and pointing you back into the hall. You hate him. And yet, there you go. You mutter rude comments about where his hammer might end up when he wasn’t paying attention and follow him back to Bridgette’s table. You would rather not. But apparently, you're friends with your boss and he wants you to eat with his daughter and her horribly loud tall friend.

Why the fuck was he so tall.

At least Torbjorn was so kind as to start a conversation that Reinhardt immediately took over. None of them needed any input from you. So you just ate your sweet-laden plate and tried to ignore the feeling that someone was looking at you. That someone was watching you. That at any second someone was going to touch you and their hands would probably be sticky. You really didn’t want to be touched with sticky hands. Or any hands really. All hands can stay away.

You felt their eyes in your skin. Like a tingling fire. You stood up halfway through your plate, unable to finish from the rising nausea. Torbjorn opened his mouth to argue but a glowing orb appeared over you. You wanted to be annoyed, the last thing you needed was more attention, but you couldn’t deny the orb helped with the edge.

“Pinion. I was hoping you would join us for meditation today.” Zenyatta approached, with Genji at his side. Presented with the choice between awkwardly sitting in a crowded room or awkwardly following the omnic out of the room, you went with the one who could calm you with a magical floating ball. You nodded, cleaning the fastest you ever had while your rescuers waited in the doorway.

“Thank you.” You muttered halfway down the hallway. 

“Even I could see how uncomfortable you were.” Genji offered. “You normally take meals alone, or with Roadhog and Junkrat. Why were you there?”

“...Torbjorn wants me to stop being the Ghost that haunts the engineering wing and fixes broken gear.” You sighed.

“That sounds like a very polite ghost.” Zenyatta remarked. You snorted, following them into a small room that smelled floral and light. Genji’s brother was already there sitting cross-legged on a floor cushion. He didn’t move when the three of you entered. Genji assumed the same pose next to him. Zenyatta lowered towards the ground, pointing towards a spare cushion.

“Come, I will guide you through.”

You sat down next to him, trying not to tap nervously on your ankles. Why were you actually doing this? You could’ve ran for it. You’re pretty sure Zenyatta would have let you run for it. But you were here, on the floor, waiting.

“Straighten your spine a bit. May I touch your back to show you?” Zenyatta reached out. You nodded and he pressed your back until you shifted to fix whatever was wrong with your posture. He guided you to rest your hands in your lap, dipping your chin just slightly and closing your eyes. His touches were light, gentle, and quick. Never enough to really start to bother you. 

“There you go. Now take slow, deep breaths. Focus on each breath. Feel the air going into your lungs, feel it leaving.” Zenyatta instructed.

It felt strange. But it was, okay. You liked this. Liked the peace. Liked the way it flowed. Feeling your breath, then your body, then the room around you. Listening to the others breathing. Listening to Zenyatta beside you. All the thoughts that swirled in your mind began to settle one by one. You felt amazing. This was amazing. You were fully aware that an hour had passed and yet it felt so quick. You couldn’t help but smile. 

“You seem much calmer,” Zenyatta commented, offering to help you up. You thought about it and nodded, accepting his help. Limited contact. Friends only. Was Zenyatta your friend? You could certainly tolerate the omnic. Maybe that’s what friendship was for you. Toleration. It was a kind of acceptance. If you squinted.

“Thank you, that was. Helpful.” You felt so great. So happy.

“Would you like to join us more often? I can walk you from your workshop.” Zenyatta offered. You nodded fairly quickly. You would definitely love to meditate more. Especially if you could do it to avoid the breakfast crowd. And the lunch crowd. And any crowd, crowds were awful. 

“I’m going to go get back to work. See you later, Zenyatta.” You wave, slipping out down the hall. You feel light, and happy, and calm. If someone had told you a year ago that you’d like an omnic you would have punched them. Actually, if they had told you any of this there would be a fight. Leave Junkertown willingly? Fuck ‘em, fight time. Be friends with Junkrat and Roadhog? Fuck ‘em, fight time. There would have been blood. That’s not saying there won’t be blood regardless. It’s just a different kind of blood. Hopefully not yours.

Fingers crossed.


	22. A Promise

Your new drones are sleek, capable, weaving through the practice arena in a dance. Their pulse shots rip through the practice bots, following your directions as you dodge from cover to cover pointing to targets. You herd the practice bots into a cluster and then snap your fingers. Your drones converge into the cluster and explode. Beautiful. A few taps onto your arm mount and small clusters drop from it, quickly spreading out and rebuilding themselves into four new drones. Another tap and one stays near you, a shield dropping over you while the other three spread out. The training bots’ bullets bounced off, reflecting back towards them. Perfect.

“Tech works great Winston, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to where he and Doc have been watching and taking notes.

“Let’s see a few shots please,” Doc called. Winston had given you a shotgun, worried that your drones distance would leave you exposed in close range situations. Roadhog had worked you through using it. Yours wasn’t as strong as his, or as strong as your drones, but it was still effective enough. You shot a few of the closer training bots. They were thrown back enough for you to get a good distance away. Enough for you to direct your drones to finish the job.

You weren’t the fastest, but your drones could deal major damage if you kept yourself behind cover. It was enough to make you useful.

“I suppose Pinion is clear, Winston.” Doc sighed. She had been against putting you into the field, drones or no. There was always something that needed repair. Doc was just as happy keeping you in your workshop as you were. But short staffed is short staffed and someone needs to go with this Mei to check Ecopoint Amazon.

You don’t know what the fuck an Ecopoint is. 

“Alright, that’s some good news. Pinion, I’ll be sending you and Mei out tomorrow. It should be safe but it’ll just be the two of you so Be Careful.” Winston frowned. It was just supposed to be an information-gathering mission, no fighting. You and your drones were just back up in case something went awry. You really hoped it wouldn’t, but at least you were prepared if you did.

You beelined straight for the workshops when you were done. You stored your gear in yours before popping into Junkrat’s, taking a seat in a chair near the door. He didn’t notice you at first. He was focused on whatever new bomb he was working on. You waited until he stopped, silently fidgeting in your chair.

“Winston’s got me on a mission tomorrow. With Mei?”

“The cold one?” Junkrat spun around in his chair, wheeling towards you. “Better than the pile o’ junk you like so much.”

“We’ll see. Never talked to her.” You plan on continuing the trend of not talking to her if you could help it. Junkrat’s pouty. He still doesn’t like that you’re friends with an omnic. Sorta. Distant friends. You would never trust him the way you trust your junkers. But he’s decent enough and the meditation is helping.

“The drones’ explosions are really great. Thanks for helping.” You smile. Junkrat’s tension immediately disappears into a bright grin.

“Of course they’re great! I’m a Master.” He grinned. “C’mere, take a look at my latest creation!”

Junkrat wheeled back to his worktable, a new rip tire laying open. You rested a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to look at his work. It was always impressive. A bit messy, and at times you lost track of where the wires were going. You would need to use gentle pliers and time to see where everything was going. But the explosives were so perfectly placed, completely stable until the blasting cap was set off. You hummed as you took it in, barely noticing Junkrat smugly smirking at his shoulder out of the corner of your eye.

“Bet ya still don’t like the rust bucket touchin’ ya.” He laughed.

“Well yeah Junkrat. I’m really only okay with the two of you.” You mutter. You smirk back and shove him out of his chair. “Don’t let it get to ya head.”

“This is a bad place for a tussle.” Junkrat snorted. 

“Then I win.” You calmly walk to the door, laughing when you get tackled out of it. You and Junkrat fall into your normal routine of half-assedly elbowing each other until Roadhog showed up and pulled you apart. 

“Don’t you have a mission tomorrow?” He looked at you. You chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, my gear’s all ready. I need a shower now though, but that’ll take it for mission prep.” You smooth back your hair. You always need to shower after going into Junkrat’s workspace. It’s just covered in soot. And dirt. And grime. And you’re not too sure what some of it is and really, you don’t want to know.

“S’your fault for scrappin’ with me in the first place.” Junkrat grinned.

“It is, it really is.” You sighed, placing a hand over your heart and shaking your head.

“You gonna be okay with just the girl?” Roadhog asked slowly.

“We can sneak along! Get in real stealth like. They’ll never see it comin’.” Junkrat added, crouching and looking shiftily from side to side. You laughed, covering your broad grin.

“Oh, really. You two, sneaking along, on my mission. Yes, that’s not something anyone would predict.” You shook your head. “Thanks for the offer but it’ll be fine. Worst case scenario I lock myself in my workshop afterwards and make Doc very happy. I think she’d like us all to stay in our shops.”

“Got the rest of the day off. Do you want to go watch tv?” You asked, motioning out of the engineering wing. Roadhog nodded, picking Junkrat like he was picking up a box. You piled into the Junkers room, now thoroughly covered in knick-knacks. There were more pachimari everywhere, collected for Roadhog by both you and Junkrat, spare parts and scrap, clothes both dirty and clean scattered everywhere. Your chair was the only thing that was free from clutter. Although if there was something you could probably just throw it down. You settled in, scooting closer to the bed while your Junkers curled up in their blankets.

Those blankets probably needed washing. The whole room probably needed washing. Hell. Junkrat probably needed washing. You would need a hose, Winston’s dome shield, and one of those stun grenades from the annoying cowboy.

“Hey, make me a promise will ya?” Junkrat leaned over, tugging on your arm.

“Hm? What?” You scooted closer until your chair was pressed against the bed.

“Don’t die ya? It’d be a shame if we kept ya alive all this time for some job to take ya out.” 

You raised your eyebrows and shook your head, patting his hand. “It’s just an escort to pick up some data. Don’t worry your smokin’ head, I’ll come back. If the Queen couldn’t keep me away what makes ya think this will?” 

Junkrat’s smile had something more than relief, but you overlooked it. You just smiled back and looked back at the holoscreen. Enjoying this little break before you had to separate from your Junkers again.


	23. Rainforests are Gross and Sticky

There was a little, floating omnic in your face. Or was it an omnic? You really couldn’t tell. It wasn’t talking but it was making faces at you, beeping and twirling around. You were tempted to deploy one of your drones just to see what the little thing would do about it. 

“Snowball, stop bothering Pinion, come here.” Mei was a scientist apparently. The one with the ice gun that Junkrat liked to laugh about. Said she made everything feel cold. You could see that. If she could create ice on a whim then she must not tolerate heat very well. You would almost like being on a mission with her if you weren’t going somewhere wet and sticky. The Ecopoint was apparently a lab where scientists were studying the environment. The conclusion was probably ‘it’s fucked’. 

The plane landed on the roof of the abandoned base, the only place where it could land. Even the roof was starting to get covered in vines and leaves and you really hope there’s nothing in there. Probably is. You roll tape over the seam between your sleeves and gloves, then your pants and shoes. Then you wordlessly hand the roll to Mei. You know what happens if those sleeves are loose.

Nothing.

Good.

It was already wet on the roof. Decayed sleeves made gross, slippery little piles. The air had water in it for fuck’s sake. This was an awful place. You had always wanted more water in Australia but how naive you were. You sighed and deployed your drones, sending them to scout ahead.

“Your drones are amazing Pinion, I would love to look at them sometime. If that’s alright of course. I know you value your privacy.” Mei watched the drones fly away with a small look of awe. Maybe you’d let her look at them on the flight back. You didn’t quite want her in your workshop. That was a closed space.

“This way, we need to start the emergency generator first.” Mei smiled, leading you through the dense complex to a large, central building. Your drones gave off a quiet buzz, weaving in and out of your vision as they checked inside any open doors or windows. The place was sealed up fairly well. You sort of wanted to scavenge. There could be a lot of useful materials in these buildings that could be put to use. You didn’t think Mei would appreciate that, and it wasn’t like you were hurting for supplies. You eyed a sleek drone as it zoomed past you. Definitely not. Still, old habits.

Mei guided you to a large generator set against the side of the central building. She opened it up and tried to pull the cord. But nothing. You shrugged. This is why you were there after all.

“Let me see.” You set your tools aside, crouching next to the engine. A lot of rust. This place wasn’t good for metal. Definitely some spiders inside, that was always fun. At least they had the decency of being small, biggest one was barely the size of your hand. Kinda cute. You prodded them with your screwdriver until they moved on. You tweaked and poked until you coaxed movement out of parts that just did not want to move. A few replaced belts and you stood. Mei waited until you motioned to it to pull the start again.

“Yes! That was great!” She cheered, giving a little clap.“Fantastic, now we can go inside and access the data. I’m hopeful it’ll be safe.”

The inside was in far better condition than the outside. There was a little bit of dust but for the most part, the facility had been airtight. Needed to be, given the amount of humidity in the air. You were dying. This was so awful. You were already sticky. You would need to spend hours to get the stickiness off of your skin. And hair. And soul.

You were surprised when the holoscreens actually fired up. Mei began to work, graphs and numbers and measurements displaying in the center while she copied backups of the data to a drive that she’d brought. You figured from her frowns and muttering that it said nothing good. You had never paid much attention to the environment. Going outside was uncomfortable to you regardless of what the weather was doing. At least she cared though. You could help her build something if she needed you to. Not sure what would help though.

Snowball began to chase the drone that was circling the room. You snorted, watching the clever little thing give chase. After a few minutes you took direct control of the drone. Snowball was much slower than your drones but much smarter. It kept trying to ambush the drone, or cut it off. It was adorable. You were quietly delighted.

“Alright, all done. Are you two finished with your playing?” Mei giggled. You gave her a small smile, reverting your drone to automatic behaviors. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You head for the door, smiling at Mei’s laughter behind you. Oh, it was gross outside. It had somehow by some unnatural power become even stickier. You shuddered as you circled back to the generator, turning it off. If someone did have to come back to the ecopoint they would need the fuel. 

Snowball continued chasing the drones as you two hiked back to the plane. It was a lot easier, given that they were just circling around you. There hadn’t been any enemies or any large predators for the drones to attack. That was a relief. You hadn’t wanted to get into a fight. You’d expected it, because that’s generally what you expect when you leave your private space. That’s just how it’s always been. Wake up, go outside, fight for your life, go home and mutter rude things about your neighbors. Although things have been more peaceful lately. It’s been… okay.

You kept one of the drones deployed, deactivating it and offering it to Mei. “You wanted to take a look?”

“Oh yes! They’re so fast!” Mei gingerly set the drone on the table. She handled it so carefully, with so much respect. Lightly touching the propellers and watching them spin. Leaning in closer to get a better look at the joints. Mei spends most of the flight back to Gibraltar going over the little drone, though one of her hands keeps ghosting over to the drive. The data was clearly important to her.

“This is so lovely. Great work Pinion!” Mei smiled at you, slowly setting the drone away from herself.

“Thanks.” You smile back, reverting the drone into its quick deploy state and snapping it onto your mount. 

“I’m so happy I got to go on this mission with you. I was so nervous, but you’re so nice!” Mei said as the plane began its descent. You were finally back home. This was a relief. You couldn’t wait to go see your Junkers. After a shower though.

“I was worried you were going to be like those horrid Junkers.”

You paused as the plane’s landing sequence activated. “I’m sorry?”

“You know. Roadhog and, ugh, Junkrat. They’re so filthy, and crude, and just so awful. They’re bad people. Who do bad things. You’re not like them at all.” Mei collected Snowball, turning to notice the dark look that was sinking into your eyes.

“How fuckin’ dare ya.” You hiss, fists clenching tight at your sides. “I am just like them. I am one'a them, just as much of a Junker as they are. How dare ya talk ‘bout ma Junkers like that t’ma face. They haven’t done anythin’ t’ya and here ya are talkin’ shit.”

You wanted to punch her, but that would just cause problems. You needed to get out of there. Find someplace quiet. Meditate. Oh you definitely needed to meditate now.

“Don’t ever talk ‘bout ma boys like that in front’a me again.” You hiss as the door finally opens. She could also just never talk to you again. After all, someone who didn’t like your Junkers was no friend of yours. They were important to you. They were your friends. Your real friends. The only people that you trusted in the entire world. You would punch someone for them. Especially if she opened her mouth in front of you again.


	24. Calming Down

You are so, so damn pissed. It’s not like you’ve never been this pissed in your life. That wouldn’t be true. You’ve spent more time being pissed than you have literally any other emotion. You’re pretty much an even split between anger and disgust at any point in time. You check for an empty hallway before punching the wall, doing more damage to yourself than the wall. You rub the pain out of your hand as you beeline for the meditation room. You need to calm down.

It’s not empty. Hanzo is there, in his usual spot. You don’t bother getting out a cushion. You just drop yourself to the ground gear and all. It’s a lot of noise and Hanzo had to have heard you but he doesn’t respond. You’re grateful. You do not want any conversation right now.

The breathing helps. Centering helps. The anger slips away in small tendrils but it does slip away. Everything is fine. You didn’t have to carry this with you. Plus, you were home, and unless your Junkers were still asleep you could see them. It was fine. Everything was fine. You opened your eyes and stood with a relieved sigh. You really owed Zenyatta a favor. What would you really do for him though, besides repairs? That wasn’t a favor that was just fixing a friend.

“I am here if you need it.”

You raised your eyebrows at Hanzo. The man was quietly leaning against the wall, eyes closed. You hadn’t even heard him get up when did he move. 

“When we first met I was, less than friendly. But you, and your partners. You are more than I expected. You have welcomed me despite everything.” Hanzo explained. You were even more confused than you were initially. 

“Me? Welcomin’?” You asked. And to your surprise, he chuckled.

“In your own way, Yes. Certainly more than others, though I don’t blame them. I don’t know what made you angry but if your partners aren’t available to help you, I would be more than willing to join you in your fight.” He offered. You laughed. The idea of bringing an archer to a fight with a scientist was hilariously overkill. But you were also sort of touched. You didn’t realize you had a friend in Hanzo. But it made sense if you thought about it. You spent almost as much time in the room meditating with him as you did with your Junkers.

“I’m over it but, thank you. Same to you if you ever need my drones.” You nodded. He nodded back, and that was that. No touching, no moves to touch. Just two grumpy assholes walking out of a meditation room towards the training grounds.

You probably should go to your dorm to wash off the thick layers of jungle sweat and gunk that’s coating everything. Take a toothbrush to your leather and your gear. Plus the idea of getting some sleep. It had barely been a few days to get the retrieval done but you hadn’t slept during any of it. You would never sleep on a flying death trap. You could now, or you could hang out with Hanzo and send your drones to shoot his targets before his arrows reached them. You know. Like a friend would.

You’re tempted. But then you see the duct tape on your sleeves and decide against it. Next time you could. Perhaps if you were careful you could even sneak in and destroy a few targets before he realizes you’re there. The closer you get to the dorms the more you realize how gross you are. You would rather go back and roll around in the wasteland than go back to the jungle. Why was there so much water in the air it was like the whole place wanted the mud to infiltrate your skin.

“Oi!” You look up to see Junkrat running towards you. He stops a few feet away doing this funny little wiggling jig. The sort of look he had when he was about to blow something up. Which made you suspicious enough to look up and check the roof for his mines. Would he hurt you with them, no. Would he scare you with them as a prank, probably. But the coast seemed clear. It took you a moment to realize what he wanted. You rolled your eyes and held out your arms. Junkrat laughed and grabbed you, standing up to his full height and letting your legs dangle.

“Ya didn’t die!”

“Nah, now put me down.” He laughed again and released you. You were relieved to see him. Part of you was concerned they were sent off on a mission while you were gone. You didn’t have to see them but you did want to. 

“Doc’s lookin’ for you.” Roadhog came up, crossing his arms. 

“I figured. I’m fine though, there wasn’t any fights till after we already got back.” You shrug. He doesn’t look convinced. You’re about five seconds from being picked up and carried to the medical wing. You’re not fast enough to run. Succumb to your fate.

“What does that mean?” He asked.

“... Nothin’ important. Jus’ don’t like Mei is all. Can I at least take a shower before going to see Doc?” You asked hopefully. Delay your fate. Embrace the clean. You’re so gross. You miss soap. Roadhog sighed, reaching out and turning you around. Checking for injuries. He somehow zeroed in on the hand you’d punched the wall with. It was sore, and slightly swollen. You winced when he touched it, making him huff.

“I just bruised it punching a wall it’s fine.”

He stared at you.

“Hog it’s fine.”

Roadhog gave you a tug on your good hand, dragging you back towards the medical bay.

“Roadhog I’m gross.”

Nope, not gonna happen. You have lost the battle. Succumb mortal, Succumb.

“Mako please let me take a shower first I swear I’ll go see Doc when I’m clean.”

Roadhog stopped, turning to look at you. Junkrat stopped following and glanced between you and him. You put on your best ‘please’ face. It was awful. You aren’t used to saying please. You aren’t even used to being nice. But you aren’t used to being mean anymore either. Angry maybe, mean, hm.

“You used my name.” Roadhog muttered.

“Do you not want me to?” You knew they treasured their privacy as much as you did, but the hallway was empty, and you’re sure you hadn’t yelled it. Just loud enough for him to hear. Maybe Junkrat. 

“... No, you can. In private... Fine, take your shower. Then you’ll see Doc.” Roadhog took another look at your hand before letting you go.

“Thank ya!” You bolted back to your room. You were not about to give Roadhog the time to change his mind. The shower was the best thing you’d ever felt. So clean. So dirt free. So much better.


	25. Crossbows Suck

Generally, you were one of three places. Your dorm, your workshop, or the meditation room. If someone wanted to find you, they would find you there and only there. You hated being in the mess hall. Would grumble if you had to go to the medical wing. The training grounds were too open and had too many people wandering in and out at any time. You weren’t even sure there was a rec room. There might be one, but you’ll be damned if you go anywhere near it. Strikes you as the sort of place that might be extremely loud. And touchy. A lot of, team bonding exercises and what not. You were okay not doing that. Your team building exercises were hanging out with your Junkers and occasionally getting the mental energy to eat breakfast with Torbjorn and his daughter.

That was one of the rare cases. You now had a short list of people who were capable of dragging you out of your dorm or workshop. Torbjorn, who pretty much adopted both you and Junkrat as his engineer children, Roadhog, Junkrat, Zenyatta, and Hanzo. Although Hanzo never went near either room. Once in a while you two just walked to the training grounds after meditation, him practicing with his bow while you experimented with drone formations.

“I have a question.” You start, letting your drones chase a training bot around a pillar in the world’s least fun game of ring around the rosie.

“What is it?” Hanzo hit another perfect shot. You aren’t sure why he practiced his aim so much, he clearly didn’t need it.

“What do you think about crossbows?” You ask. Hanzo gives you a look that asks whether you’re trying to start shit or talk shit.

“They used to use ‘em all the time in the wastelands. I never understood why. I mean, I can see why you use a bow. I just don’t understand why they were using crossbows.” You explain. Hanzo hides a little smile. Talking shit it is.

“Crossbows are just lazy,” Hanzo muttered.

“Isn’t it still a hassle to load them? At that point, why not just get a rifle. What does a crossbow offer you that a rifle doesn’t?” You spin your drones, flipping them upside down for a bit. They soared through the obstacle hoops and around training bot shots.

“They lack the elegance for bows and the common sense for rifles. In a way, the crossbow suits its masters.” Hanzo smirked, hitting another target. He stopped to grab a few more arrows from the storage bin. 

“A match made in heaven then. If there’s one thing the wasteland lacks it's common sense.” You waved your hand, weaving your drones around pillars and targets in a loose spiraling pattern. You grinned and directed them towards Hanzo’s arrows, trying to shoot them out of the air. You hit one and had him turn around and look at you with the driest expression. You snorted and redirected your drones back to the bots they were chasing.

This had been your morning, talking mindless shit about people that you would probably never meet. Just for the sake of it. Unless someone showed up with an actual crossbow. Then you two would have a field day. Just standing in a corner somewhere trying to avoid the rest of the organization, talking shit. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you all over the place.” Torbjorn’s voice boomed.

“Oh? Sorry. Got a work order for me?” You asked, recalling your drones. They collapsed and attached themselves to their docking unit.

“As always, but Mei’s been poking around looking for you.” Torbjorn shook his head when you visibly winced. “You can’t avoid her forever.”

“You’re right.” You looked at Hanzo. “Mate, it’s time. Shoot me.”

Hanzo solemnly nodded and aimed his bow at you. Like a good friend. Torbjorn sighed, clearly not appreciating this for either the loyalty value or the comedy value. He was wrong, this was objectively hilarious.

“Yer trying my patience with yer dramatics. Get back to work before I make you be friendly somewhere.” He threatened with a wiggle of his hammer. You grimaced. There had been emails about game nights and pizza parties and other horrible things that you could get kidnapped into. An arrow to the face couldn’t save you if Doc or any of the other medics were there. You sighed and followed Torbjorn, pretending not to notice Hanzo’s slight amusement at the threat. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t smile when you caught him flirting with McCree again. Oh sorry, they weren’t flirting, they were talking about aim.

Maybe that wasn’t flirting. How would you know? In Junkertown, flirting was not shooting someone and then inviting them to your apartment. Or, alternately, it was shooting someone and then inviting them to your apartment. A lot of guns and romantic forwardness in the wastelands. Which was reasonable. Couldn’t expect someone to offer you roses in a land that barely had these tiny stunted bushes. Actually, couldn’t expect someone to offer you roses when you literally never came out of your workshop ever. Were they supposed to be smitten with the door or something? Did the Queen count? Maybe. You don’t remember her ever flirting with you but you aren’t sure you ever paid that much attention to what she was saying. You waited until she told you want she wanted you to build and that was that. 

Oh well. You’ll never really need that information anyway. You can hardly stand to share a space with the small group that you have. You still won’t let most of your friends into your workshop. Just let them pull you from it. It’s just, you like your space. And you like your privacy. And you like your safety. Flirting, and anything else would just violate all of that. So you’re fine.

You would still like to tease Hanzo about it though. Could just ask Genji for details. You weren’t, not friends with Genji.

Junkrat is in your workshop when you’re there, tinkering with the explosion mechanism that you use in your drones. You raise an eyebrow at him and settle into the chair next to him.

“Hit a wall, wanted to come see ya but ya weren’t here,” Junkrat explained, looking up from the scattered parts.

“Spent some time being grumpy with Hanzo. You’re moving the blasting cap?” You point to the arrangement, careful not to touch it. The explosives aren’t in there but you don’t want to take chances with your fingers. You really don’t want to build your own prosthetic. 

“You two are good mates?” Junkrat asks, fingers hovering over the parts.

“Mates maybe, good mates hm. I don’t know how many I want on that list.” You notice some armor waiting on another table for you and roll over to it.

“Me and Roadie, we’re good mates yeah?”

You glance over the damage, pulling out your welding tool. “You’re my best mates.” 

There’s a little pop and you glance over to Junkrat giggling over the spent blasting cap. You shake your head and smile. “If you’re gonna blow somethin’ up, do it in your own workshop. I just cleaned mine. One of these days I’ll get to yours.”

“Ya like my dirt and ya know it.”


	26. There's No Fussing Here

It was generally preferred by most parties to team you with your junkers on missions. The problem was that Winston viewed you as tactically incompatible. You were capable of long distance recon and remote attacking. Stealth. In most cases, it was ideal to pair you with someone capable of defending you, like Torbjorn or the ever-loud Reinhardt, while you acted from a distance. Roadhog worked in that aspect. But he preferred going in and getting the work done rather than waiting around.

And then there’s Junkrat.

You didn’t like being paired with anyone outside your short, short list of people you tolerate. You would never complain, but the dry annoyed looks you give as well as your general aura of disgust discourage Winston from attempting to pair you with someone else. Plus your junkers don’t like you being out in the field without them. You still avoid Mei. And you’d rather not team with Torbjorn’s omnic friend, Bastion. Those units shouldn’t even exist still, and there one is. Just sitting around the base. Playing with a bird. Although if your choices were Mei or Bastion… Beep beep.

For once, you’re paired with your Junkers. It’s a rare moment when Winston has decided you would work out well. He wanted to send someone else with you but everyone else was busy. Which was fine. Your group could handle what he was sending you into.

Junkrat was supposed to be making a commotion while you slip your drones into a warehouse to verify a stockpile of Talon weaponry. If it was there, you were to give an initial hit and let your Junkers follow up for anything leftover. You aren’t, incredibly thrilled about going up against Talon. You don’t know much about them. All you know is that they’re the primary enemy. That they want, specifically, to kill Overwatch agents. Like you and your Junkers. It’s unsettling. But if you didn’t go they would go alone and you didn’t want that either. 

Roadhog follows a cackling Junkrat out of the plane, pausing to watch you come out of it. You give him a little nod and then flash a grumpily nervous look towards Junkrat.

“Keep him alive yeah?” You grab your shotgun, making sure it’s loaded.

“Run to us if someone finds you,” Roadhog replies, sounding just as thrilled about the situation as you were.

You nodded, reluctantly separating. You didn’t necessarily need to go far. Just close enough to the warehouse to be able to deploy your drones and set them to work. There were several large shipping containers, with just enough space for you to wedge yourself between them. It wasn’t the safest option but you didn’t have time to find something better. Getting everyone home safe would rely on your speed.

The drones sped away from you, their view displayed in the holoscreen projected from your control panel. You directed them to the marked warehouse, a high-security facility that was thoroughly distracted by the explosions from your Junkers. Your drones shot out a window and slipped in one by one. There was the temptation to just land each drone and set the explosion off. But you weren’t sure just how much needed to be destroyed, and you didn’t want to risk sending in repeated drone groups. The first explosion might draw attention and then you would be left high and dry without enough drones for defense.

It was pretty heavily packed. Most of them looked like your standard crates, probably holding rifles and related parts. You came across a guard that was peering out a door towards the smoke on the horizon. One drone stood hovering above him while the others searched the rest of the warehouse. The only other guard was pacing near a back door. Both of them were shot down before they could look up and raise an alarm.

There. A few crates labeled with explosives. You attached your drones to the crates and set off the explosion. You looked up to notice a woman in purple smiling at you from the other side of the shipping container canyon. Well fuck. A drone managed to be out and deploying a shield before her first shots rang out. Back to the plane it is then. You set off your drones in the warehouse, hoping it would be enough to distract her. 

A massive explosion shook the ground. You stumbled for a moment before pushing yourself onwards. What the hell were they keeping in that warehouse. No wonder Winston wanted it destroyed, and not stolen. Although. Junkrat probably could’ve made something nice out of it. If there wasn’t a purple woman shooting at you then you would’ve probably tried to pilfer something before you set it all off.

You deployed more drones, only to watch her hack one to the ground. You waited a moment for her to catch up to it before activating the trigger. Junkrat would be proud of you. The other drones stayed behind and began firing into the smoke cloud. If she was still alive, then she shouldn’t be in a condition to chase you down. But still. You weren’t going to be caught unawares again. It was your own fault for not keeping a drone on hand. Or for not firing your shotgun. You keep it loaded and in your hands as you hover near the rendezvous point. 

There’s the sound of cackling and soon Junkrat and Roadhog re-appear. At first, you’re relieved to see them and lower your rifle. Then you notice the blood trickling down Roadhog’s side and instantly go tense. You’re at his side before you notice you’ve moved. Your version of panic is a quiet bit of muttering and almost dragging Roadhog back into the plane.

“How the fuck.” You manage to get audible while you dig through the first aid kits. You have no real idea how to use any of it, but you assume that you can figure it out. You build semi-autonomous drones in the middle of a wasteland with some scrap metal and duct tape. You think you can handle some bandages.

Roadhog audibly sighs as you fuss over the gash on his side. It wasn’t particularly long or deep, but there was more blood than you were interested in seeing coming out of either of your Junkers at any point in time. 

He grumbled when you wiped the cut with alcohol wipes. You jabbed your finger towards his face in a silent warning to shut the fuck up. You cleaned the hell out of the cut, covering it with medicated gel and layering bandages on it. Was is the right way to do that? Probably not. Do you feel better? A bit. Is Roadhog annoyed? Oh yes. Did Junkrat find this hilarious? Apparently, he was certainly laughing hard enough.

“When I said, keep Junkrat alive. I did not, fucking mean, that you could get shot. What happened?” You growled, putting the medkit away.

“Sniper.” Roadhog huffed. “I’m fine.”

You couldn’t really get annoyed that he got grazed by a sniper. He wasn’t a ranged fighter after all. But there had been a lot of blood. You leaned back over him, staring at the bandage. Daring it to bleed through. So help you. If it bled through. 

“I said I’m fine.” Roadhog pulled you into a hug, keeping you from messing with his wounded side. You wiggled in protest, getting squeezed for your efforts. 

“Stop fussing.”

“I don’t fuckin’ fuss.” You hiss.

“Ya just were.” Junkrat grins, scooting closer to Roadhog. He leans on Roadhog’s shoulder and just smiles at you. Like an asshole who knows you can’t gently punch him in the face if Roadhog is holding you still. 

Roadhog released you, patting your shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been in worse.”

“I swear if ya go and die somewhere I’ll find a way to bring ya back and kill ya myself.” You drop yourself into the seat next to him, leaning on his arm. He was warm, and alive, and probably not going to die regardless of the bandage. If it were bad enough he’d use those canisters of his. And since he hadn’t, you assumed it didn’t bother him at all. You weren’t fussing though. You didn’t fuss.

“Touch the bandage and you’ll lose your other hand.” Roadhog growled over him to see a sheepish looking Junkrat smiling at him.

“Don’t fuss Jamison.” You smirked.

“Learned it from you.” Junkrat stuck his tongue out at you. Roadhog sighed the sigh of a long suffering man and draped his arms over both of you. Junkrat immediately cuddled up to Roadhog, settling in for the long flight back to base. You leaned over to get another glance at the bandage. The feel of Roadhog’s eye on you made you quickly drop against him. 

“Just cuddlin’, don’t mind me.” You say unconvincingly. Roadhog sighs again and shakes his head.

“Would you stop if I took some of my gas.”

“Yes.” You and Junkrat answer in unison. Roadhog sighs again and lifts his arm away from you to jam a can into his mask. He relaxes and tucks the can back onto his belt before returning his arm to your shoulders.

“There. You two are ridiculous.” He muttered.

“Pinion started it.”

“Shut the fuck up Junkrat.”


	27. Fireworks

“Excuse me, Pinion?” 

The mech pilot, Hana, was hovering in your doorway. She would have been a star in Junkertown, the way she pilots her mech. Or she would be dead. Or both. Probably both, the way people get jealous over the scrap yard titles. You turned off your welding tool and spun around in your chair to give her your full attention.

“My mech took damage to one of the guns, it’s not bad enough to call in a new mech. Can you fix it before I go home? And before, you know. Torbjorn sees it.” Hana said slowly, looking warily around the engineering wing. You stood up with a nod, grabbing your toolbox. Torbjorn did get a little weird in regards to Hana’s mech suit. This would be your second time repairing it, mostly because you were a shut-in who never expressed interest in anything besides clean spaces, honey, and your Junkers. So there’d be no suit weirdness. Just the regular ‘guess who doesn’t like being outside’ weirdness.

There was a small dent on the upper portion of one of her mech’s arms, beneath it was damage to the firing mechanism. You carefully cleaned away the debris and grime before you started to replace a few pieces and weld others. It wasn’t bad, and easy enough to fix.

Hana kept you company, though most of her attention was on her phone. You rarely spoke to her outside of mech repairs. She was usually near Lucio and while he seemed a perfectly sweet person he was loud. He was so loud. All the time. The man was a cloud of noise that liked to run around on roller skates. And the only thing that you liked more than noise was noise on skates rolling towards you faster than you could run. So you avoided them. But you also avoided everyone, so. Ya know.

“Hey, Junkrat likes fireworks right?” Hana asked, looking up from her phone. You pause in your efforts to remove the dent and nod.

“There’s some festival like, an hour from here. Huge firework show tonight. See?” She hopped off the crate she was sitting on, showing you the event page. You suppose it would be the kind of thing Junkrat would get a kick out of. Or he would find the fireworks disappointing and try to make his own.

Which would be fairly interesting.

“Hm… what’s the town like? Big enough that no one would notice strangers?” You ask, returning to pulling out the dent.

“Yeah, and the fireworks are being held over this big natural park. Plenty of space to hide out in.” Hana tilted her head and leaned on her mech. “You hate crowds yeah? You would still take him?”

You finished the repair, stepping back to examine your work for flaws. “I’ve dealt with worse crowds for people I didn’t even like. I can handle this.”

“That’s kinda cute. I wonder if Lucio will go with me?” Hana mused.

“Ask him before you leave. Your mech’s repaired.” You packed up your tools, running over your schedule. Junkrat should be out in the training yard right about now. Ugh. That was unfortunate. You wish any of you carried phones. But Junkrat would probably blow his up and you would get annoyed with yours. And then ask him to blow it up for you. And of course he would. And then Roadhog would get annoyed at both of you for blowing up the phone unnecessarily.

“Sweet, looks great too. Thanks Pins!” Hana flashed you a peace sign. Pins again. You could have worse nicknames. Talking to them did give you a pins and needles sensation. Although that’s probably not why they were calling you Pins. Oh well. It didn’t bother you enough to do anything about it.

You headed towards the training yard, nervously tapping out a pattern on your leg. There were always multiple people in the yard during the day. And they always seemed interested in stopping to have a conversation. They were training and yet still the talking. You didn’t understand. Who saw the prickliest member of Overwatch lurking through the shooting range and thought hm. Pinion has a gun. Pinion probably does not like me. Now is the time to talk. Now is the time for Friendship.

To be fair you haven’t shot at anyone yet. The most you’ve ever done is almost punch Mei. You’re practically a paragon of peace. So long as that peace includes leaving you alone.

“Hey Pinion, who dragged ya out of your cave?” Junkrat cackled, strolling out of the yard with Roadhog close behind.

“Hana’s mech.” You fall into step next to him, pulling out a wet cloth when you noticed a smear of grease on your arm. That was gross, how did you not notice that. You wiped it away, going over your hands again with it before glancing over at your Junkers.

“She told me about a fireworks show about an hour out from here. You wanna go?” You had a second before Junkrat picked you up in a hug. You forgot how tall this walking pile of limbs was. You also forgot that he was strong enough to pick you up with ease. He forgot that you were perfectly willing to kill a man. It’s the afternoon too you are in acceptable murder hours.

“Put me down before I need to build you a second arm.” 

Junkrat giggled as he returned you to the safety of the ground. You lost your glare pretty quickly trying to stare down his excited smile. 

“Didn’t think you’d wanna go! Cause of the crowds n’ all. But we’ll take ya! Even got disguises.” Junkrat wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Disguises?” 

“Oh, you’ll love ‘em!” Junkrat grabbed your hand, hauling you down the hallways after him. You were so concerned about his idea of a disguise. And what he did to make Roadhog agree to change his clothing. 

The disguises were ridiculous. Roadhog was driving a motorcycle dressed as a shark. Which was, really hilarious. That alone. You looked at him with both hands covering your face to hide the unstoppable smile you had. He just huffed at you. Then were was Junkrat, crammed in next to you, trying to keep all the hay in his fucking scarecrow outfit from flying out. How this was incognito was beyond you. It wasn’t. It was the most noticeable thing you had ever seen. You weren’t sure whether you should be crying laughter or be ready to shoot your way out of a situation. Probably both.

The city was crowded. Heavy traffic. So many people with their eyes and their hands and their whispers. You tensed and curled into yourself. Trying to be as uninteresting as possible. Hoping that if someone did look your way they would be distracted by Roadhog and Junkrat. Hoping that no one tried to grab your arm or push past you. The cool metal of Junkrat’s prosthetic draped over your shoulders. Roadhog’s hand appeared on your back as well. The two were flanking you through the crowd, beelining for the park.

You felt safer. Slightly. You could see catch glimpses of people looking towards you. You didn’t know what they were thinking. Didn’t want to know. They were strangers, and strangers were dangerous. But your Junkers were dangerous too. Literally. You knew that, despite your efforts, both of them were armed. Hell. You were armed. 

“Gonna buy some food.” Roadhog murmured. “Stay Together.”

Like you would ever wander into a crowd. Especially one so thick you practically had to touch people. You crossed your arms, scowling into the night. Most of the crowd was staying in an open field, or on the tables in a picnic area. You didn’t want to be too close to them. You searched for something more remote.

“Here.” Roadhog reappeared, hanging you a warm paper bag of some fried pastry and a drink. Cocoa, from the smell of it. You gave him a nod of thanks.

“Cheers! This is great, aint it Pinion?” Junkrat grinned, already biting into his food. You sighed, searching through the darkened landscape.

“I’m only here because I love you Junkrat. This is actually hell… Oh, there’s a good spot. C’mon, before… people… see it.” You hiked up a small hill, catching bits of your Junkers arguing behind you.

“...not yet…”

“...why not… good time.”

“... did I say... pushing...” 

“It aint pushin’ ... said it first...”

The hill had a small clearing of space just overlooking the field, with a clear view of the sky. And no one else was there. You dropped into the grass, taking a long sip of your cocoa. It was so warm. You were so warm. Your Junkers flanked you again, silently eating as the fireworks began to go off. They were a lot prettier than you were expecting. You’d seen fireworks before, cobbled together explosives with whatever was lying around Junkertown, but these were. Much prettier. A lot less smoke. Definitely less ash raining down.

As soon as you finished eating Junkrat’s hand was there, wiggling in the air in front of you. You rolled your eyes and placed your hand in his. Surprisingly he wasn’t horrifically sticky. A little sticky. But you could ignore that for just a bit. You offered Roadhog your other hand and were pleased that he wasn’t sticky at all. Warm though.

It was a beautiful show. There were few eyes awake enough to stare on the way out of the park and back onto the road. You preferred being out at night. Everything was so quiet and peaceful. Just you and your Junkers. That’s all you really needed, after all.

You waved to them as you headed for your room, determined to wash off all the stares from the crowd. You heard Roadhog speaking to Junkrat as you closed your door.

“Soon, Junkrat. Soon.”


	28. Oh No

“See you later Pinion, great seeing you.” Bridgette waved. You waved back, making your quick escape from the mess hall. You genuinely liked Bridgette, her mechanical skills were impressive. You wouldn’t mind sharing a project with her or two. Helping her with Reinhardt’s armor was pleasant enough.

A sudden beeping assaults your ears and you attempt to make your way to the meditation room. Snowball is flying over your head in little circles. The same way your drones would behave if you set them to search and rescue mode. Which meant that. Fuck. 

“Finally, We’ve found you!”

Fuck.

You immediately attempt to walk faster. You are busy. Too busy for small scientists who are rapidly approaching and now standing right next to you. Also too busy for their tiny drones that are rapidly circling around you until you stop and watch it zoom ahead until it realizes you weren’t walking any further. And then she catches up to you. Annoyance is crawling up your skin. This is worse than being watched by a crowd. There’s a tense silence that settles as she waits for you to acknowledge her. But you are steadfast. You are resolute. You are being beeped at. 

For fuck’s sake, Snowball.

“Pinion, I have been trying to apologize to you for weeks now. The least you could do is look at me.” Mei said. You sighed and crossed your arms. There was no avoiding it anymore. You tried. You did your best. Now it’s time to deal with it. You met her hopeful expression with the same gaze you give when you find grease leaked all over your desk. Her smile drops.

“Listen. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge, and I shouldn’t have said that to you. I thought you just worked with them because you had to. I didn’t realize that you loved them. Please forgive me?” Mei shifted like she was going to reach out to you, and then put her hand back down. Snowball chirped, gently batting itself against your head.

Fuck.

“...Fine.” You huffed with all the grace of a badger. Her smile returned and she gave a little clap.

“Oh how wonderful! Roadhog did not let me know where you were at all. You all really look after each other don’t you? It’s sorta cute.” Mei said.

You opened your mouth to agree, then stopped. Wait a minute. Take a step back there. What was that. “Did, did you just say, that you didn’t know, I loved them?”

“Oh yes! It’s so silly now, you’re almost always together. I don’t know how I didn’t see it. I hope we can be friends now. Even if I don’t, entirely get along with your loved ones.” Mei ruffled the hair on the back of her head.

“Y..yeah.” You nod, not really paying attention to what she said, even as she finally walked away and let you continue on to the meditation room.

She thought you loved them?

… Do you love them?

You know you trust them. You have others but it’s different. They’re different. You’re comfortable with them in ways that you aren’t comfortable with others. You get anxious when you’re separated for too long. You don’t want to be far.

Oh no.

Oh No.

You walk into the room and closed the door, staring at the floor with wide eyes.

“Is something the matter?” Zenyatta asked, a yellow orb already appearing over you. He soothed your panic. But not your confusion. What the fuck.

“I think I love Junkrat and Roadhog.” Saying it made it feel real. Which rekindled the slight sensation of terror. Fuck. You love them. A silence flooded the room and for once. You did not like it. It just left you with your own words replaying again and again in your head.

The silence was broken by the brothers laughing. Genji had the courtesy to keep it to a soft chuckle but Hanzo. Fucking Hanzo. It was the loudest you’d ever heard him unless he was shooting dragons at someone. And honestly, you would now like to shoot dragons at him. Where were your drones. Why weren’t you having them escort you around base anymore. You needed them, now. To shoot your friend.

“How did you not know that?” Hanzo stopped with a small smirk. “I thought you’ve been in a relationship for some time now.”

“Hanzo. As your friend I have to let you know, fuck you.” You’re pretty sure Zenyatta doubled your harmony orb when you flipped Hanzo off. You did need that. You sighed, dropping onto your mat and putting your face in your hands. This was not good. Maybe you grew up with, a lot of fear. And maybe, you’ve been getting over that, a little. But you can’t be in love. You just can’t. Especially since your Junkers already love each other. There’s no room for you in that. Even if you are friends, partners. Lovers was. Too much. 

“I think you are worrying when you don’t have to.” Zenyatta settled in next to you. “It’s a joyous thing to find happiness in others.”

“Is it.” You sighed. This is why you don’t leave your workshop. You don’t have to deal with emotions in your workshop. Emotions don’t happen when you’re busy working on things. That’s how you didn’t notice the entire love thing creeping up on you. Fucking… fuck. 

“Yes. Just talk to them when they get back.” Genji said gently. “Trust me, it will work out well. I was in your same place, I know how you feel.”

“Or, Genji, I could weld my door shut. Create a tiny hole and send my drones to get me food.” You muttered.

“How would you clean?” Hanzo can keep his smug comments to himself the fucking. Ugh.

“Shut up Hanzo.”

“Would you like my help in confessing your love?”

“Shut Up Hanzo.”

“It would be convenient if we had everyone who didn’t know you loved them in the room. It will be just you, alone.”

“Zenyatta can I borrow one of your orbs. I need it for meditation reasons, and not to throw at Hanzo.”

You got another harmony orb. That’s fair. You needed that. 

Zenyatta’s calm voice followed the orb. “You will be fine Pinion. Follow me. Take in a deep breath…”


	29. Kindred Spirits

You haven’t been able to concentrate on anything new recently. Repairs are good, work orders are good, but as for your own designs. You just can’t get it out. You keep thinking about your Junkers and alternating between worrying for their safety and worrying about your feelings for them. You thought you outgrew these feelings in general. Squashed them back in the wastes. It wasn’t safe to be a child in Junkertown. You had to get mean fast before the city swallowed you whole and crushed your bones into the pavement. Even the vaguest feelings of attachment had to be crushed.

And here you were, no longer in the wasteland. Where things were different. Where you were different. You weren’t without your spines and edges. But you were still softer. More relaxed. And somehow, you had fallen in love without realizing it was happening.

Motherfucker.

At least you didn’t have to worry about finding some way to tell them. Both of your Junkers were in a relationship. With each other. Which meant that they weren’t likely interested in involving you in that. But you did have to worry about what you were going to do to stop this. You wanted to just ignore it and hope it went away but it kept coming up. You would get some tea and think of Junkrat. You would cuddle in your pillows and think of Roadhog. You would go out and practice a new drone routine that would somehow always end up maximizing a defense for your Junkers. The more you tried to shove it down the more it showed up in your fucking house drinking your goddamn vanilla honey tea.

You deleted another sketch file, grumbling into your holo-screen. This was the ultimate worst-case scenario. Maybe you should figure out how to put plumbing into your workshop. Then you really could weld the door shut. 

“Excuse me, Pinion? Lucio is at the door. He wishes to speak to you.” Athena announced. You weren’t in the mood for any loudness in your face but you’ll take the distraction. You put on your most neutral face, which really just made you look cranky, and opened the door. Lucio was standing silently, giving you a nervous smile.

“Hey Pins. Hope I’m not bothering you much. I was just hoping you’d help me out? This is Satya Vaswani.” Lucio motioned to a tall woman who seemed to be struggling to maintain a veneer of calm. There was uncertainty in the way her hand gripped her wrist.

“Satya, this is Pinion, one of our mechanics. Satya is an architect. You two might have a lot in common. I was hoping that she could work in your workshop for a bit, and maybe you could help her set up her own space?” Lucio asked slowly. At first you wanted to ask him what he was thinking. Bringing someone who looked fairly vulnerable straight to the least friendly member of Overwatch. But maybe he had his reasons. He wouldn’t have done this if he really didn’t think that you two would get along. Besides, you really could use a distraction.

“... Yeah, that’s fine. Come in Satya.” You left the door open, pausing near your holoscreen to set up a new account on it. Temporary, until you got hers started.

“You’re gonna love it here Satya, I promise. Pinion’s cool. I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.” Lucio said, leaving Satya in your apparently capable hands.

“It’s so clean in here.” She murmured. “Nothing’s out of place.”

“I hate disorderly workspaces.” You shrugged and motioned towards Junkrat’s workshop. “Never go into the shop next door, it’s filthy… Also, it belongs to a bombmaker. So you would explode, and it would be gross.”

“You can use the holo-desk, I’ve set up an account for you. I need to deep clean one of the other workshops for you. Do you need specific equipment?” You asked, activating one of your helper drones to pick up your box of cleaning supplies for you. The corner shop on your other side was covered in dirt and dust and spider webs. And you really hoped that’s all that was in there. 

“... No I…” Satya stopped and sighed. Something was up. She needed Zenyatta, or perhaps Genji. You aren’t quite sure why Lucio thought you would be a help. But he did. You ordered your drone back down, sitting at one of your workbenches and selecting one of your prosthetic blueprints. Old habits. 

“I’m not the best at, bein’ around other people. But if ya need to talk about somethin’. I’m in here.” You offered. You started with the core parts, arranging them from your shelves and sending your drones to get what you didn’t have out of the storeroom. The fetch drones weren’t as well designed as your battle drones. You would put work into those later.

There was a moment of silent work before she spoke up again. “Does it make you bad if you’ve been helping bad people, hurt others?”

You looked up from the prosthetic frame. Ah. That explains it. You can sympathize. You built a lot of things that hurt other people. Killed ‘em too. Never felt bad about it a day in your life though. But she did. You put down your tools and turned to her. “No, I don’t think so. Life’s not like that. Nothing ever fits strict rules. You’re here, you’re trying. That’s good enough.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It’s okay if it takes a while for you to stop feeling guilty about it. Emotions aren’t cooperative. You’re in a good place to work on it.” You don’t look directly at her, instead you look at the desk she’s sitting at. 

“Thank you.” Satya stopped shuffling through the holo-screen, her shoulders relaxing. It looks like you were able to help after all. Huh. Good call on Lucio’s part. If you ever ended up trapped in an elevator with him forcing you to engage in conversation you would let him know.

“Who’s that arm for?” She stood up, pushing the chair over to your work table, sitting with a good gap between the two of you.

“Would you find it weird if I just feel like building prosthetics sometimes? Someone will use it. I’m just not sure who.” You shrug. Satya leaned in, examining the foundations.

“No, It will improve someone’s life. May I?” She pointed to a screwdriver. You never directly shared projects like this. The closest you got was drawing out plans with Junkrat for your battle drones’ explosive mechanism. But this was just, something to do for the sake of doing it. You nodded, letting her work on the forearm while you worked on the upper arm. Neither of you said a word, much to your own comfort. As you crossed into the wiring stage you stepped back.

“Would you like to finish it while I clean up your workshop?” You asked, reactivating your carrier drone. Satya just nodded, not looking up from the metal piece she was carefully arranging. Yeah. You two would get along really well. You already liked her.

You would have to make sure her new shop was immaculate. Which was generally how every space you cleaned turned out. You really hated when things were messy. Maybe you could sort out how you felt about the Junkers while you worked. Or, you could ignore them in favor of concentrating really hard on this one particular square of dust. That was also an option.


	30. A Calm

Your Junkers are coming home. You’re equal parts thrilled, and nervous. You still haven’t figured out what to do about your… emotional situation. How to keep yourself in check. Especially with Roadhog always reading you. Your only hope right now was for your ‘in love’ face to look like your ‘just tasted coffee’ face. Or something else you could hide behind.

You dropped your head onto your work table, resting your too warm skin on the cool metal. You could deal with this. You were clever. You would find a way to keep everything to yourself. There had been worse situations where you had to keep your cool. And there would be more to come. This was just, one more trial. You turned your head to cool the other side of your face. You would find a way. 

There was still a little time before they got there. You could always meditate. It would probably help too. You wiped your table down before stepping out. Satya was just outside of her own shop, greeting you with a small wave. She seemed pretty pleased with her space, though she spent the past few days making modifications so she could easily work with her hard light tech. You weren’t exactly sure how it worked. You’re sure she would explain it if you asked, maybe someday you would when you weren’t distracted with your Junkers. If that day ever came.

“You’re out. I was just coming to give you this.” Satya stepped towards you, offering a pendant build of three rings attached to a keyring by a thin cord. She spun the rings with her thumb before handing it to you.

“I made a copy of mine for you. It was useful for dealing with stressful situations.” She explained. You took the pendant, giving it an experimental couple of spins. It was a comfortable weight in your hands, the movement actually pretty soothing. You smiled and clipped it to your belt, right where you could reach it. 

“It’s perfect, I’m always in need of a hand. Thank you.” You rest your hand against your hip, idly spinning the rings as you spoke. “My Junkers are coming back today. There’ll be a lot of noise from the end shop, heads up. Roadhog’s quiet enough though.”

“I’ve already put soundproofing onto my walls.” Satya nodded. “I’m going back to work. We will talk later?”

“Probably not today, I’ll be with those two. If you need me though, just send a message.” You nodded goodbye and left the workshops. Your hand kept at your side, spinning your rings as you walked. That really was a fantastic gift, you would have to find something to give in turn. Maybe a utility drone or two. Though her own turrets implied she could likely build her own. Hm.

You wandered straight to the hangar, hovering in a darker corner while you waited. You could always claim you were only unsettled because of new arrivals. Which would make sense for you. It would only work until Roadhog noticed how easily you got along with Satya though. But perhaps it would be just enough time for you to figure a way to keep your emotions to yourself. You’d tried asking your friends. Hanzo, like yourself, generally had just two moods: cranky and likes-sweets. Genji just pointed from his mask to Zenyatta’s face, which did make you snort. If you told Dadbjorn that you had feelings for Junkrat horrible things would happen.

Horrible. Things.

Damn if you weren’t letting yourself get anxious again. You closed your eyes, falling into meditation. Letting yourself settle. You needed them, despite your own dislike of dependency. You hated relying on others. Hated that you couldn’t and didn’t want to imagine a life without your Junkers in it. They had barged their way into it and now you were determined to keep them in. 

Although that was really up to them, wasn’t it.

You sighed as the plane came in. You weren’t ready. How could anyone be ready? And yet. You didn’t want to wait to see them any longer than you already had. You could already feel some of your tension slipping away when you saw them walk out, alive and unharmed. For once.

Junkrat laughed when he saw you, barely waiting for you to sigh and hold your arms open before he picked you up. You didn’t even have to look down to know that you were now just, covered in soot. It was on him like a blanket. Where did he even go to get that much dirt on him. How. What could a person-you know, maybe you don’t want to know. Maybe the world needs its mystery.

“Haha, miss me?” He chuckled, holding on a moment longer than usual before putting you down.

You snorted. “Yeah, I was just thinkin’ that I keep everythin’ so clean there’s hardly any way to get dirty enough to need a shower. I am now though so, cheers.”

Junkrat laughed again, not moving to put you down until Roadhog huffed behind him. You tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe some of the mess off of you.

“Mission went well then?” You frowned, wondering if you were going to have to stain treat your shirt. You hated doing that. Why were you wearing light colors anyway. You knew they were coming. You know the dirt would find you. Just wear black. Like any normal person would do if they were in love with a pair of filth magnets.

You glanced at them and rolled your eyes. What made you think that you would ever be anything but comfortable with them. Nothing would change. Especially if you kept your mouth shut. There was no way they would know if you didn’t make yourself anxious enough to stand out. And you weren’t anxious with them. 

“Yeah. Came back alive.” Roadhog muttered. “C’mon. I’m tired.”

“You woulda loved it, I blew up half the town.” Junkrat cackled. He launched into a recount of the mission, arms flailing as he described the smoking wreckage and vehicles rendered into little more than shrapnel. You had to admit, he did make it sound pretty spectacular. A little too attention grabbing maybe. But certainly spectacular.

“Well you’ll just have to make our next mission together extra exciting.” You shrug. “You two get your rest. I’ll let Winston know how it went after my shower.”

Junkrat lept into their room, but Roadhog lingered, staring at you. He tilted his head and you tilted your own in response. He reached out his hand, rubbing some of the dirt off your face. Or at least it seemed he was trying to. Roadhog was only marginally less dirty than Junkrat and the both of you knew it. The only difference was that Roadhog took the occasional shower at base and you had to get your entire social circle in on pinning Junkrat into a corner with a hose and 3 disposable utility drones.

“Gotta talk in the morning. Okay?” Roadhog spoke slowly, his fingers brushing through the hair framing your face before he stepped away.

“Got it.” You replied with a nod, wondering what was in your hair. And then just as quick, deciding not to wonder about it. It wouldn't have been anything good. Time to shower. Extra soap. You traced your fingers where you could still feel the warmth of Roadhog’s hand as you turned on the water. You couldn’t wait to see them again in the morning. Tomorrow should be nice.


	31. At Arm's Length

“Pinion, please wake up. Genji and Hanzo in need of your assistance.” Athena’s voice broke through your slumber. You immediately lept to your feet, throwing on your gear and racing down the halls. You were only vaguely aware of your Junkers waking up in their room, though mostly because you heard a crash intermingled with Junkrat’s cursing. 

Satya was waiting in Winston’s office, dressed in blue and wielding a strange weapon. Winston rubbed his face wearily. “Thank you Pinion. The brothers were exposed trying to raid a lab in Oasis. They haven’t been captured but they’re in a hard place. I need you and Symmetra to provide backup for them. And I assume you two are going?”

Junkrat slung his arm over your shoulders. “Of course. Where Pinion goes, we go.” 

“Great. You’ll provide a distraction. Symmetra built Oasis, she’ll know the best routes in and out. Pinion, you’ll go with her and retrieve our friends. All of you will meet at the extraction point.” Winston sighed. “Don’t get caught, and keep each other safe. You’re all important, including you Symmetra. I don’t want any of you hurt.”

“Thank you. Everything will turn out perfectly as long as we stick to the plan.” Satya nodded. You winced. With your Junkers… Well, you would stick to the plan at least. The other two wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the mission though. They weren’t the leave-a-man behind type. 

They were soothing. Junkrat’s arm a familiar weight over your shoulders, Roadhog’s hand on your back. They were a handful but they were your friends. That you loved. Which was perfectly normal as far as you were aware. You didn’t quite love your other friends the same but if there was so much as a scratch on either Hanzo or Genji you would blow the city up. Or at least a building. You didn’t carry enough drones for a city.

“When will we have coms Athena?” You asked as you settled into the plane.

“Within a mile of the city.” She answered.

“There are a few maintenance areas within the region where our allies are located, close enough to larger pavilions where a distraction may be held. I’ll set up turrets as we go to keep a path clear for our escape.” Satya began, hand flickering over a holo-screen map. She pointed as she spoke, fingers outlining your path.

“Looks like we won’t be too far away if ya get into trouble.” Junkrat remarked.

“Run towards us.” Roadhog followed. His hand gripped your shoulder as you stepped off the plane. You nodded, slipping away with Satya. Your drones ran ahead of the two of you, protected by a shield Satya wove out of light. It took barely seconds of time for her to set up turrets, a line of little ball-shaped death machines. You immediately liked them. 

“Hanzo, Genji, Come in.” You called into your earpiece.

“Pinion? I thought I heard a bomb go off. Where are you?” Genji’s voice came through. Your drones opened fire on a few armed guards as you and Satya slid through an archway.

“We’re heading towards -”

One of your drones crumpled to the ground, a familiar purple figure disappearing before your eyes. The drone was crushed under the foot of a second woman, taller with the orangest hair you’d ever seen on another human being. Her face was bare of emotions but her eyes held a familiar icy ferocity to them. This woman was dangerous.

“Symmetra, go.” You ordered, deploying another drone. You heard footsteps running away from you as you aimed your shotgun at this strange woman. One of your drones dropped a shield over you while the other three opened fire. The woman disappeared, reappearing in a cloud of shadow to your right, a strange purple stream ripping at your shield. Your shotgun knocked her back, but she sealed the hole in her body with a stream of yellow from her other hand.

One of your other drones swapped places with the first shield drone, renewing your defenses while more shots began to pepper your attacker. You lifted your shotgun again, wincing when you heard a strange beeping noise and watched your drones drop dead. Fucking hacker. You fired your shotgun, missing the orange haired woman but hitting the tank she carried on her back. She cursed, or at least, sounded like she cursed in an unfamiliar language. The purple stream jumped from her hand again, hitting you in your wrist. 

It was like fire and ice ripping through your veins at once. You screamed, firing your shotgun again and hitting her in the torso. There was a flash beside you and an arrow split into three. One hit her in the leg, another hit the hiding hacker in the arm. Genji pushed you behind him, with Symmetra shielding all of you. Your enemies departed with smoke and a flash. And your arm was killing you.

Already a purple hue was creeping under your skin, causing your hand to twitch involuntarily. It hurt so bad. You were biting back tears. You did not cry for anything, especially not this.

“Pinion, are you alright?” Hanzo stared at the twisting lines of purple pushing under your skin.

“Think… gotta get… to Doc fast.” You hissed.

You could hardly deploy your drones with the amount of pain your hand was in. The purple was spreading, lines turning your entire hand purple. Tendrils were creeping up your arm, ripping, tearing. You almost passed out, staying awake only because you were determined to fight, to keep your friends alive.

It hurt so fucking much. The purple hit your elbow and was pushing upwards by the time you made it back to the rendezvous point. You screamed as another pulse of pain shot through you, almost knocking you to your feet. What was this.

“Pinion!” Roadhog was at your side before you realized he was even at the plane. He gingerly took your arm in his hands, examining the darkening purple, the visible twisting and bubbling of your skin. A few of the bumps had burst, oozing an unnaturally colored pus and blood. It was grosser than you thought it was.

“I can’t… feel my… hand.” You gasped. It was spreading. Fast. Roadhog watched the purple advancing towards your upper arm, with Junkrat cursing behind you.

“Plane’s not gonna be fast enough.” Roadhog mumbled, gently guiding you into the plane with the rest of your team. He sat you on the table and put your non-injured hand into Junkrat’s. Roadhog grabbed one of the med-kits and set it on the table next to you. He stroked your face for just a second before taking your injured hand.

“Do you trust us, Pinion?” Roadhog asked.

“O..f.. Course. Always.” You’re beginning to get dizzy. You can’t feel from the elbow down. Roadhog took a roll of gauze from the med-kit and motioned for you to bite it. 

Oh.

Well.

Fuck.

“Wait, are you sure that’s wise?” Hanzo watched as Roadhog held your arm away from your body, positioning his hook.

“Poison will kill before we get back.” Roadhog said simply. You felt a blinding pain, one that promptly sent you out of consciousness. You woke up to a hand pushing your hair back, a loud muttering in your ear that was probably Junkrat’s idea of whispering.

“S’gonna be okay darl’. You’re gonna make it. That’s it, open your eyes, listen to ol’ Junkrat. We’re here. We’re with you. I promise. We’re gonna find who did this and make ‘em pay. You hear me yeah? Me n’ Roadhog. We’re gonna make ‘em pay.”


	32. In Good Hands

You floated in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay with your Junkers but unable to keep yourself awake. You were aware, slightly, of the tense atmosphere of the plane. Concerned muttering. A louder ‘I’m faster, please let me help.’, being transferred from soft warmth to cold metal, and then you could barely comprehend that you were moving. There were more voices that felt so...so far away. You were so tired. There’s so much pain. So much. Someone curses, mentions the name Moira, orders you to survive. Promises you that you will. You see light and the pain eases just enough for you to breathe again. You’re moved like you’re made of glass, end up tucked into warm blankets.

“Pinion’s stable. You can come in.” You knew the voice. But couldn’t place it. Stable. That meant you could sleep. You think. So you do. You fall into a dreamless rest, a void. When you wake up it’s through such a thick fog. The first thing you notice is the lack of weight. Your left arm is gone. Then you notice the presence of weight, strewn over your torso. Junkrat’s asleep on you. Roadhog’s sitting on a chair to your side, holding your remaining hand in both of his. You’re pretty sure he’s awake. You’re not sure when you started to learn to read him. When his mask became expressive and telltale. You smile through what must be, so many pain meds. 

“Doc said we got it off just in time.” Roadhog gave your hand a small squeeze.

“Thanks for savin’ me… again.” You murmured. 

“Again?” One of his thumbs stroked the back of your hand.

“Saved me from becomin’ whatever I woulda become if I stood with the Queen.” You explained. His touch was so warm. His hands were rough, calloused. But so comforting. A lot of people had died to his hands. He was every bit as dangerous as the world thought he was. But for you, there was so much gentleness. So much care. Maybe it was the pain meds talking. But you were speaking without restraint. 

“I love you.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “I mean. Really love you.”

“We know.” Junkrat nuzzled your stomach. “Roadie said we had to give ya space. Or we woulda scared ya off… I didn’t wanna wait.”

You wish you could stroke his hair. But you don’t want to let go of Roadhog’s hands. So you just gaze at him. You thought he was asleep, but he was gazing at you with bright-eyed clarity. It was almost criminal how beautiful Junkart’s yellow eyes were. Oh, it was definitely the pain meds talking. Fucking Junkrat and his stunning eyes. 

“Wait?” You felt so dizzy. Couldn’t wait till the meds cleared up. Or wait, would the pain come back? You glanced down at your shoulder. There was the smallest bit of arm left, wrapped in bandages that covered your shoulder. Hm. Probably would hurt. For a while. You would need a new arm. Maybe you should just install your drone control panel into it. Might as well. It would be convenient.

“Liked ya from the start. There we were, enjoyin’ a nice mornin’ stroll. Look up and there’s this person on the town sign, cleaner than anythin' should be in the middle of all that. Glimmerin’ like treasure. Just knew ya were somethin’ special. Had ta see ya more.” Junkrat grinned, pride glinting in his eyes. “And ya kept comin’ to us. Don’t know what ya saw. But ya saw it. Chose us over the Queen.”

He cackled. “I betcha she was pissed! I would be, if someone stole ya away.”

“It’ll never happen.” You’re getting sleepy again. What did Doc give you. Or, what did Doc not give you. The world felt so hazy. Maybe this was just a dream. Which would be pretty disappointing, you didn’t want to wake up and find that you didn’t tell your Junkers you loved them. That they didn’t react with a smile. Or in Roadhog’s case, with holding your hand.

Junkrat’s smile dipped and he sat up, scooting forward a bit. He leaned close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes unblinking as he stared at you. So close. Still covered in dirt. Your wonderful messy rat man.

“Can I have a kiss?” He asked. 

“Mmhmm. Just one. M’tired.”

Junkrat eagerly pressed his lips to yours, nipping at your bottom lip and pushing his hands into your hair. Oh you definitely weren’t dreaming. You weren’t dreaming. You were very much awake and Junkrat was very much kissing you and it was, pretty great actually. Well, not that you’ve kissed a ton of people but it was him kissing you and that was just. Nice.

“Jamison.” Roadhog’s voice held warning. Junkrat sighed and stepped back, giggling and laying his head back down on your chest. 

“Love ya Pins.” Junkrat smiled. “Love ya Roadie.”

Roadhog sighed, reaching out to touch your face. He moved his hand to rest on Junkrat’s head. He was quiet for a moment, just holding on to the two of you. “I love you too.”

Your lips still tingled with Junkrat’s kiss. You were loved. You were loved and you loved them too. You aren’t too sure how much of your current warmth and lightness was from this revelation and how much of it was from the frankly industrial levels of medication in your system at the moment. But you could always ask for a kiss later and figure that out. Especially since you wanted one from Roadhog, if he was interested. You squeezed his hand, giving him what you hoped was a loving gaze and not a ‘your newly acquired lover is very high’ gaze.

“... I’m sorry I hurt you.” He squeezed your hand back, lifting it to his chest as though to hug your arm. You snorted.

“Didn’t. That… whatever her name is… She hurt me. You did what you had to for me. Like ya always do.” Your snort became a laugh. “Big badass Roadhog, such a gentle sweetheart.”

“I will shove you off this bed.” Roadhog threatened. Which just made you laugh harder. The noise was enough for Doc to poke her head into the room, visibly brightening with relief.

“You’re awake! How wonderful. I’m going to need to do a quick check of your vitals, and then I need to examine your injury again. Your friend, Satya? She says that you already have a few prosthetics lying around your office but she’s customizing one for you.” Doc disappeared, returning again with her equipment.

“Your lovers are welcome to stay, it shouldn’t be an open wound anymore.” She smiled, setting everything on a nearby counter.

“For fuck’s sake. Did everyone know before me?” You grumbled. Doc just smiled and shrugged.

That was yes.

That was a Fucking Yes.


	33. A New Normal

“Pinion, can you please tell Genji that I do not need to spend more time with the rest of our organization.” Hanzo muttered as you walked into the meditation room. You raised your eyebrow and just grinned.

“I mean, it depends. What does he want you to do?” You asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You flinched, surprised at the cold. Satya had adjusted the length and weight to better match your remaining arm. You had gone in afterward and installed your drone control equipment. It was a good arm, but most of your prosthetics had been good. You just wish you had done something about the chill.

“We are having a team night, everyone together.” Genji explained. You sighed and looked around the room.

“Do you want me to try and choke you out or beat you to death with an incense burner, we’ve got limited options in here.” You looked at Hanzo. He pretended to think for a moment, long enough for Genji to sigh.

“What if Pinion also goes?”

“Looks like we’re both going out Hanzo. You mind if I choke you out, I’m going to have to bash my head into the incense burner and I don’t want us to mix blood.” You ask. Hanzo nods. It’s a very reasonable request. You wrap your prosthetic around his neck, using your flesh hand to wave at Satya as she comes in. 

“...I’m guessing Genji already invited you two to the festivities?” She raised a single eyebrow, getting a nod from both you and Hanzo. Zenyatta followed in after her, putting orbs over you and Hanzo without even looking.

“Remember, no murder in the meditation room.” Zenyatta remarked. “I’m sure you will find the party to be less unpleasant than you’re expecting.”

“It’s still going to be too loud for me. I’d like to spend the night trying reorganizing the storage room. I think Hanzo’s going to have to go though.” You remark, releasing him and taking your mat.

“Like no one will make you” He grumbled.

“Torbjorn will probably try but I intended on barricading myself in one of the spare workshops if he does. I’ve already cleaned it and put some spare parts in there. I’m going to build a metal sculpture a middle finger and leave it outside of his office for father’s day.” You reply. He’d love it, actually. You are completely serious about building it for him. Hanzo just snorted and settled into his meditations.

It bothered you, slightly, to meditate on your prosthetic. You knew how anxious your Junkers were to get at this Moira woman. They were a lot angrier at her than you were. You just wanted to get your friends out alive, and you were successful. You were alive too. Not in one piece but, hey. Alive.

You didn’t want her to hurt your Junkers. As much as Ziegler promises her tech can protect from Moira’s genetic manipulations, you would rather none of the people you cared about to get anywhere near them. Actually you don’t even want the people you don’t care for to be near them. Losing one limb was fine losing a person was something that you didn’t want to happen. It surprised you, how much value you were putting on the people around you. How much they meant to you.

You held back a laugh when a quiet thud breaks into the tranquility in the room. A pair of arms slid around your waist, a chin pressed into your shoulder. 

“Pssst. You almost done with your sitting.” Junkrat whispered into your ear.

“Hmmm, I was going to keep at it for another hour.” You reply, though you are pretty sure that’s not going to happen. Junkrat sighs into your shoulder and kisses your cheek.

“But I want ya to come with me.” He again tries to whisper.

“Hmmm….” You pretend to think it over, holding back a laugh when he starts gently kissing down your neck. Hanzo grunts in annoyance and you let out a small, short cackle. Junkrat wins the battle, you surrender and twist around, kissing him back.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go. Have a peaceful time mates.” You murmur, letting Junkrat pull both of you to your feet. He drew you out of the room with a quiet giggle. He’d been touchy ever since you confirmed that you loved them. Frequently wanting hugs or kisses or quiet cuddles now and then. You certainly didn’t mind, neither of your Junkers touching you caused much bother for you. It just made you chuckle. At first you thought Junkrat was just expressing the affection he had held back, but then you remembered how often he draped himself over Roadhog. He was just a touchy lover.

Even now he had picked you up, awkwardly cuddling as he tried to carry you down the hall. You shook your head with a patient smile and wiggled until he put you down again. You made sure no one else was in the hall before spinning around and kissing his cheek.

“Had a bad mornin’ Jamison?” You asked as softly as you could. Junkrat shrugged and held onto you.

“Nah. Roadhog’s just busy is all, and I like it when ya kiss me.”

“That’s, pretty damn cute Jame. Too cute. I may have to kick your ass for that.” You tease. Junkrat laughed and lightly knocked his head against yours.

“I’d like t’see ya try.”

“Try? I win on the regular. You’ll have to admit it eventually.” You grin, gently shoving back. You dodge out of his grip and dance backward. He snorts and dives at you, taking a half-hearted swing that forces you to the left. You laugh, the two of you easily falling into one of your tussles, slowly scooting down the hallway while trying to knock each other down. You’re careful with your prosthetic. You don’t want to start this relationship by giving your lover a concussion. That’s for later years. Spice things up with a hospital visit.

You managed to hook your ankle behind his as you turned into the engineering wing, pulling him to the ground. You took the opening and pinned him with a grin. 

“Gotcha Jame.” You smirked, your face hovering above his. You leaned closer until your noses were almost touching. 

“Admit it. I won.”

“Doesn’t look like I lost to me.” Junkrat smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. You laughed, closing the distance with a press of your lips to his. The kiss deepened as he lifted himself closer towards you. He wiggled to try and loosen your grip on his hands, frowning at the feel of metal under his fingertips.

“Imma kill her for ya.”

“Yeah, I know. I would do it myself but it’ll probably be you and Hog.” You kiss him again, trying to coax the frown off his lips. Your teeth graze his lips and you grin at the soft noise he makes.

“Hey! Your workshops are right there.” Torbjorn shouted from his shop doorway. You cackled, releasing Junkrat and pushing yourself to your feet. Torbjorn shook his head and closed his door leaving the two of you to slip into your workshop. As soon as your door was closed Junkrat spun you around, picking you up onto one of your worktables.

“Now, what were ya sayin’ about me losin’?”


	34. Roadhog gets some interesting texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heads up there's some sex in here. Some fluff, but also some sex.

“How do you suppose I should go about asking Roadhog for a kiss?”

You and Junkrat are lounging in his room. You’re watching some movie, his head in your lap, with your fingers idly combing through his hair. It was peaceful, a way to pass the time before your next project idea or repair order. A little moment of quiet went a long way.

Junkrat looked up at you, surprise in his eyes. “Uh, darl’. You go up to him and say ‘Oi ya big fuck, kiss me.’ and then ya kiss ‘im.”

“I figured, his mask, I don’t want to ask him to take it off. It’s, personal isn’t it?” You don’t want to hurt Roadhog. Not over a kiss. You get cuddles enough, plenty of hugs and gentle touches. You weren’t an expert in social situations. Everything was still so new, and strange. Even the stuff you were used to was still, different. Just asking him felt like invading his space. Prying where you shouldn’t.

Junkrat sat up, raising an eyebrow at you. “Ya love him, right?”

“Right.”

“And ya know he loves ya, right?”

“Right.”

Junkrat kissed you with a teasing grin on his lips. “Then it isn’t a problem if ya want him to kiss ya.”

You smiled and kissed him back, but as he pulled away he didn’t look convinced that you agreed with him. He was right; you knew Roadhog would never push your boundaries without permission. You didn’t want to push his.

“Maybe we can be creative.” Junkrat mused.

Oh no.

“What do you mean.”

“Ya got that phone of yours right.” He had a grin on his face that made you extremely wary about the nod you gave him. You and Roadhog carried one, though Junkrat didn’t. He was always with one of you, or on base, and he didn’t want to deal with it. Especially when you shoved yours in your arm like some sort of metal cargo shirt gremlin. It’s not your fault you had the foresight to put a storage compartment in there.

“Let me see.” Junkrat makes a grabby hand at you. You hand it over, with the full knowledge that you are probably going to need to source a new one. Junkrat pulls you close and takes a picture of the two of you. He hunched over the phone, giggling to himself, and pulls you in again. This time he kisses you as he takes the picture. He has a smile full of mischief when he sends this one.

“Junkrat he’s, probably in the middle of a negotiation.” Roadhog had went to go pick up new parts for his bike. And being that it was outdated tech, it meant the parts were mildly rare and hard to find. Not that you couldn’t make him the parts he needed, or that he couldn’t make them himself, but he went anyway. Whether he was, buying them or stealing them wasn’t your concern. Him coming home safe and not being distracted by silly texts was a concern.

Junkrat just grinned and tilted his head, pressing his teeth to your throat. You gasped, heat rising to your face as he took another picture.

“Can I send this?” Junkrat nearly shoved the phone in your face. You glanced at it, your face getting warmer as you took in your dazed expression and the hunger in his eyes.

“Roadhog will kill us.”

“Can I send it?”

You looked from the phone to your Junker. Roadhog was busy. You knew this. Junkrat knew this. It would be an asshole thing to start sending him… images. While he was busy. But, you were an asshole. And Junkrat was an asshole. And Roadhog knew this.

You nodded. Junkrat cackled. You two were going to die and Roadhog was most definitely not going to kiss you. Junkrat put the phone down, lightly tugging at your shirt.

“Can we take this off?” You snorted and gave him a nod, pulling it off and folding it onto a junk covered table. He grinned, trailing his bites down your chest, pausing at the center of your abdomen to take another picture. He shoved it to you for review, clearly taking delight in your sped up breathing. You nodded and he sent it, his eyes flickering back to you with that hunger again. He kissed you again, fingertips trailing along the waistband of your pants.

“Can I take these off?” Junkrat’s voice was softer, gentler. You stood up to push them off and he stopped you, turning you around and setting your hands to start pushing them down. You hear a click and he shows you the picture.

“Send it.” You remove your pants and fold them too. You turn around and Junkrat gives a low hum of appreciation, wrapping his arms around your hips resting his face on your stomach.

“Hog’s gonna break some laws gettin’ home to this.”

“Like he isn’t actively breaking laws right now.” You snort. Junkrat pulled you down onto the bed, sliding off of it with a far more serious expression. He laid his cheek against your lap for just a moment before hooking one of your knees over his shoulder and taking a picture of his lips pressed against your inner thigh. He showed it to you once more before he sent it, chuckling and climbing back onto the bed. He hovered next to you, slowly eyeing you from head to toe.

“Mine.” Junkrat went for your neck again, switching between kissing and biting as he spoke. “Found me the two best lookin’ things on the whole planet… and took ‘em both for meself… Look at Mako… Look at you… all Mine, mine, mine… The whole world can fuck off.”

By the end of his speech you’re panting, the heat in your face flushing through your entire body. You’ve never felt your heart beat this fast. You’ve never felt quite like this. Junkrat’s laugh was loud as ever. 

“Speakin’ of fuckin’ off.” He murmured. “How ‘bout I take care of ya darl’? Can I?”

You nod and his hand darts between your legs, eyes glued to your face. You groan and gasp with every movement of his fingers and with every sound his lips twitch. He slides one of his legs over yours to keep your hips from shifting as you feel more heat pool into your body. Sweat pools on your skin and it only seems to make Junkrat laugh. His lips press to yours as he brings the final crest of pleasure over your body. He wipes his hands on his shorts and brushes some of the sweat-soaked hair away from your face.

“You’re fantastic,” Junkrat whispered. “Can I send Roadhog just a picture of ya face? Just ya face.”

“Go ahead. I’m gonna sleep.” You mutter. Junkrat chuckles and takes the picture, tossing the phone aside when he’s done to pick you up. He carries you into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

“C’mon, I’ll help ya clean up.”

“You’ll take a shower for me?” You teased. Junkrat grinned and leaned you on the wall while he pulled off his clothes.

“Why not? Ya sang for me.” Well. Junkrat wins this teasing round.

You realize that you didn’t… return the favor just as Junkrat helps you remove your prosthetic and eases you under the warm water. “Jame…I didn’t um... You didn’t-”

“Oh I’ll get mine, don’t ya worry darl’. Mako’s gonna take care a’ me.” Junkrat wiggles his eyebrows at you and holds you steady, keeping his prosthetics out of the water. “That’s not sayin’ ya didn’t do anythin’ for me. Ya should’ve paid more attention to those noises of yours. Roadie’s gonna be jealous of that.”

You flush at his words, relying on his help to stay upright while you washed the sweat off your skin. You felt, pretty great actually. A little lightheaded, very tired, but great. Junkrat left you propped against the wall when you were done, returning with clean clothes from his very small collection of washed outfits. Well, the shirt is Mako’s. Who you’re also not sure is that into laundry.

“Mine…” Junkrat murmurs into your hair as he cuddles with you on the bed. He’s got his arms around your waist and you’re swiftly falling asleep. You’re almost out entirely when the door rushes open and Roadhog stomps into the room.

“You Two.” His voice is a low growl, and you can see his phone being gripped in a tense fist.

Junkrat laughed. “Wanted ya home early. Got what we wanted, didn’t we Pins?”

You yawn and push clean, wet hair out of your face. “Sorry Mako. Will a kiss make it up to you?”

For a second you feel a pulse of anxiety. You didn’t actually mean to ask him. It just sort of popped out like you were dreaming. The frustration in Roadhog’s shoulders slipped away and he set his phone on his dresser. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” He offered, picking you up before shooting Junkrat a look. “You better be ready when I get back.”

Junkrat cackled, the sound of his laughter following the two of you out the door. Roadhog set you down on your bed, sitting next to you. A gentle hand cupped your face while the other hand took off his mask. His face was scarred, rough, but he gazed at you with this endless softness. A gentle warmth. His kiss started softly, deepening when you surprised him with your arms around his neck. His tongue traced your lips and along your own tongue. Roadhog parted from you to let you breathe and lean against his side.

“I love you, Mako.”

“I know. I love you too. I’ll move at your pace, don’t worry about me. I started with Junkrat, remember?” He smiled at you, a toothy, tired grin that made your eyes light up.

“I… Thank you.” You yawned and he chuckled, lying you down and tucking blankets around you. “G’night Hog.”

“Good Night, Pinion.”


	35. Favors for Favors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a companion piece for last chapter, you can view it on the series page if you missed it. ^^

You sighed, twirling the ring keychain Symmetra made for you, tapping your foot on the ground. You still hated breakfast. Especially since there were still a few agents giving you and your new arm sympathetic glances. Except for Doc, who got this look of righteous fury whenever she glanced at you. You aren’t that sure your Junkers are going to get ahold of Moira first. Doc seemed like she wanted to tear the woman a new one. Or three. Maybe more. A shudder slipped through your shoulders. It was a little unnerving that Doc was suddenly protective of you. Although, you suppose she always was. She’s now just overprotective and carrying around a pistol with a bloodlust in her eyes. You wonder if this is just how Genji’s every day is. He seems happy enough, and you don’t really have room to talk. Your Junkers were just as protective.

It was too bad you couldn’t use seeing them as an excuse to avoid breakfast time with Engineer-Father. Especially since he was still carrying around the ‘World’s Best Father’ mug where you and Junkrat crossed out ‘Best’ and wrote ‘Most Technically Adopted’ on it with a sharpie. Once a man carries around your half-joke adoptive father mug to breakfast every day it makes avoiding him awkward.

“I don’t trust him, but he’s here now. Can you take the work order to make him the extra mask?” Torbjorn tapped your arm with the handle of his spoon. You wiped at your arm, nodding. Winston wanted duplicates of both Ana Amari and Soldier 76’s gear. It was both a show that they were trusted, welcome members of Overwatch and a preemptive precaution for the inevitable destruction of said gear. Although you had to say 76’s mask was pretty sturdy looking. He refused to give it to any of the engineers so you had to build a rough replica with guesswork and a little bit of witchcraft but that’s fine.

“Think he’ll let me take measurements of his face?” You ask, popping a bite of fruit into your mouth.

“No.” 

“Awesome.” You were going to have to send one of your utility drones to scan him when he wasn’t in the training range. Which he was at sort of all the time. It was surprising how many members of an illegal vigilante group were so very against social situations. The lot of you will punch a man for someone but then you will run and hide in the nearest dark shadowy corner.

Although you suppose he would end up with friends regardless. Someone would find him. Someone would make him play a board game. Hopefully not apples to apples, that was much less innocent than anyone thought it would be and you couldn’t look Genji in the eye/visor for a week. The green card was Cheerful, Genji. Cheerful. As in, happy things. Not things that would haunt your friends' nightmares.

If you were lucky it wouldn’t come up again when you were meditating. Although it was pretty funny when ‘cheerful’ was muttered, softly, in the meditation room and you had five grown adults trying very hard not to react in any way. Especially not soft chuckles. Zenyatta.

The omnic had an interesting sense of humor. He always reserved it for those moments when you weren’t quite paying attention either. There was always a second of quiet confusion before the realization it. And then you couldn’t be mad. It was Zen. All you could do was stare at him with a mixture of shock and disgust while he smugly floated away, giggling to himself. He would never face consequences for these atrocities of wordplay. Unless one of you came up with something to get him, and you didn’t see that happening. 

“Oh, hey Pinion! Hold up, before ya go can I talk to ya?” McCree caught you outside of the mess hall. You weren’t, entirely fond of the cowboy. He didn’t make the best first impression and the two of you rarely interacted enough to fix that. You weren’t too interested in building a friendship with him either. If he broke Hanzo’s heart, you’d have to kill him. And you don’t want to kill your friends.

“What do you need?” You asked, standing to the side of the door.

“I was wonderin’ if you could distract Hanzo for me today. I got a surprise planned for him and I need some time gettin’ it ready.” McCree looked around as he talked, keeping an eye on corners and doorways. 

“I’m not sure how distracting I am.” You started, stopping to think. You weren’t good enough of a liar to distract Hanzo without him immediately realized something was up. But Junkrat was incredibly distracting, and he didn’t dislike Hanzo. 

“I’ll ask Junkrat. Maybe Satya too. How long do you need?”

You were surprised at how excited McCree looked. Like you had just shown him a mountain of gold or something. Perhaps you didn’t have to worry about killing him.

“Four Hours? No more than five. Thanks, I owe ya one.” McCree grinned and waited for you to nod before taking off. You shrugged, heading towards the engineering wing. Zenyatta wouldn’t mind it if you were a little late. For any reason, really. You weren’t sure what it would take to make Zenyatta mad and you didn’t want to know. Why were all the healers moderately frightening. Except perhaps Lucio. He was just loud. Though you noticed he did tone it down when he noticed you in the room, that was nice of him.

You lingered at the door for a moment, watching Junkrat feverishly work on whatever new bomb he was sketching. He looked so serious when he was working, a smile only jumping on his face at sudden revelations and then disappearing back into a serious scrunch of his lips. You were able to quietly admire him for several minutes before he finally caught you out of the corner of his eye and grinned. 

“Darl’!” Junkrat grinned, hopping towards you and sweeping you up in his arms. He gave you an eager kiss, pulling you close. You chuckled and kissed him back. Pulling away was unpleasant but if you didn’t want to lose a few hours then you had to stop it quick.

“Jamison, I need your help distracting Hanzo for a few hours. I can’t do it myself, since apparently ‘I can’t lie’. “ You made a face.

Junkrat smirked at you. “Oh, I can distract him. What’s in it for me?”

You snorted and raised an eyebrow, slowly pushing him back until he hit his work spot. “If you help distract Hanzo for five hours then I will hang out with you and Hana and Lucio, for one hour.”

“Hmmm. Seems a bit uneven there-” Junkrat grinned. You sighed.

“Fine, fine. Five hours for five hours.”

Junkrat kissed you. “I’m kiddin’ ya. Ya can leave when ya want. I’ve got a good idea for distractin’ your friend.”

“Don’t blow him up.” You leaned against him for a moment while he laughed and pulled away.

“Don’t worry ya head. Put your faith in ol’ Junkrat!”

You squinted at him until he gave you one last parting kiss before darting out the door. It was, probably a mistake to ask him to do this. You imagined that Hanzo sustaining bodily injuries was not exactly what McCree meant by ‘distract him’. You toyed with your rings and shrugged. You trusted Junkrat. If he said he had an idea for keeping Hanzo busy then he meant it. You hoped this went well for your friend. If not, you did have a shotgun. And a pair of lovers who were pretty good at trapping and hooking people. You weren’t threatening violence. You were. But you were not.

You just had to make sure there was no way Hanzo would make it to the dorms within the time limit. Satya and you had been working out some fairly interesting defense nests, with your drones as scouts and her turrets as the traps. This was a great opportunity to test them. The two of you quietly spent the morning adjusting your formations. The base was a great field approximation. Partially human constructed, partially natural rock formations. Great for a general idea of how to set your traps up.

A thought struck you as you sent your utility drones scurrying through the halls. Why didn’t you have utility drones working all over the base? They weren't hard to make and could be useful. Running packages, giving small aid, doing what they did in your workshop but for everyone. Athena could probably benefit from the extra hands, so to speak. Maybe after you were done with 76’s mask. You cracked your fingers. Time to hunt down an angry old man.


	36. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up Sex in here

“Almost done Mei, Snowball will be fine.”

You carefully finished the last touch of repair on Snowball’s flight mechanism while it beeped at you. Such a noisy little thing. And so expressive. Always making its little faces and wiggling those ear-things. It actually made it rather hard to concentrate. This is why you didn’t put full on self-improving AI in your drones. It was too cute. You had a reputation to uphold.

“Thank you Pinion.” Mei murmured, clutching the little robot close to her as soon as you were done. You weren’t sure what bonded Mei to Snowball, and you knew it wasn’t really your place to ask. You didn’t need to know details to fix her friend. You doubted she even needed you too. It was just hard to stay so when she was in tears at your workshop holding a damaged Snowball. Maybe it was too upsetting. 

“No problem mate.” You paused and dropped your hand to your ring chain. “You alright?”

Mei made a soft noise. You flicked your eyes at her for just a moment. Her eyes were filled with surprise despite her broad smile. 

“Yes! Thank you. For fixing Snowball. I appreciate it.” Mei stroked Snowball, lingering in your workshop. “Would you like to come have some tea with us?”

“Us?”

“Me, Snowball, oh and Zarya.” 

You looked away to think about it. You didn’t know Zarya very well. Or at all. You barely knew Mei and most of that situation had been… tense. Even if things were alright now, you still didn’t know Mei. But you did want some tea. And you didn’t like going to the kitchen alone. You sighed slowly.

“Just one cup.”

Mei gave a little clap and led you and Snowball out of the Engineering wing. Things were getting a lot busier now that Winston was finding more people to join the ranks. Not everyone lived in the base, most were vaguely on call, only coming for important meetings. But there were enough here that it felt more alive. For you this just meant slightly resuming your reputation as the ghost that haunts engineering and fixes people’s stuff. It was just too many new faces too fast.

“Pinion, where is Junkrat.” Hanzo called, approaching you in the hall.

“Training area, why?” You asked, walking towards him.

“He asked me a few days ago to help him with his aim. Although I suspect that it might have been a ploy to keep my attention.” Hanzo raised his eyebrows at you. You shrugged, with a small smile. 

“It might have been. I wouldn’t know.” You knew that Hanzo seemed happier these past few days. Lighter. McCree was good for him. Which meant that you were inevitably going to have to be actual friends with McCree. Or at least, you could never tase him with your drones. Unless you found a really good reason to do so.

Hanzo’s lips twitched in a smile. “I suppose not. Will you be joining us?”

“No, I’m having tea with Mei. And then I think I’ll spend some time with Roadhog.” You shook your head. “Next time.”

Hanzo nodded, leaving you to follow Mei into the mess hall. Which was, almost completely empty. You felt the slightest amount of relief. Meeting a new person was bad enough, forget meeting a new person when surrounded by people.

“Mei, your little friend is repaired?” 

A tall, muscular woman with pink hair and a scar over her eye stood up from a table to watch the three of you approach. Mei nodded with a giggle as Snowball sped over to the woman, circling her. You assumed this was Zarya. She looked at you with just as much suspicion as you were probably giving her. 

“This is-?” Zarya asked Mei, not taking her eyes off of you.

“Pinion! Our mechanic.” Mei motioned to the repaired Snowball. Zarya gave you a cautious smile and offered her hand. Lucky for you she left you with the option to shake with your prosthetic. No touching. Technically. You were grateful for the little loopholes.  
“You can call me Zarya. It’s good to meet you.” She shook your hand, letting go to resume her seat. You went to go into the kitchen but Mei stopped you, ushering you to sit down at Zarya’s table.

“Let me, I make wonderful tea.” Mei smiled, disappearing through the other doorway.

Neither you or Zarya said much of anything. You stared off at the opposite wall, waiting. Regretting your decision to come with Mei the longer you sat there. You liked Mei well enough, you supposed. You wouldn’t quite say she was a friend but she wasn’t, not a friend. Either way, you didn’t like sitting awkwardly with people you didn’t know. It made your skin start to crawl again.

“You are as quiet as people say.” Zarya remarked. You looked at her with a question in your eyes. 

“When I first came I asked questions about all who were to fight at my side. I was told you were dependable but quiet. It is true. You’ve repaired my weapon before, the particle cannon.” She explained. 

You lit up and nodded. “It’s an interesting weapon. I enjoy working on it, the damage is generally superficial but it’s still a good chance to get a look at the inner workings. The graviton function in particular. It’s a fascinating structure.”

“It always comes back looking good as new. I’m glad it’s something you enjoy.” Zarya smiled, then smiled wider as Mei returned. The conversation fell to Mei and Zarya’s shoulders, and you weren’t really paying much attention. But you were there, and you were enjoying your tea, and that was good enough for you.

“I’m going to go see Roadhog for a bit. Thanks for the tea Mei.” You murmured when there was a break in the conversation, slipping up to rinse out your cup.

“Any time!” Mei beamed. She seemed pretty happy. You supposed you could have a cup of tea with her once in a while. As long as the mess hall was suitably empty. You weren’t quite comfortable with the idea of having her in your workshop for very long. At least, not yet.

You would burn that bridge when you came to it. Right now. You just wanted your Roadhog. He was quietly relaxing in his room, a cup of tea on the nightstand. You wordlessly crawled onto the bed with him, curling up to him as he brought his arm around you. His rough hand gently stroked your arm. You could easily drift off to sleep like this. It was the safest place in the world to you. The only thing that could make it safer would be Junkrat on the other side.

“Long morning?” Roadhog remarked, glued to his book. You shrugged and started lazily tracing his tattoo with your fingertips. It was a pretty cute tattoo. He somehow made it look so imposing. It was impressive really. Your terrifying, extremely capable Hog.  
“Not really. Helped Mei out, had tea with her and Zarya. She’s, alright. Respectful.” You take a moment to breathe and let all of your thoughts go. You meditate in a way, letting Roadhog be your focus. Mirroring the sound of his breathing. Focusing on the texture of his skin, both his hand on your arm and the skin under your fingertips. You could fall asleep with him time and time again. But you don’t really want to. Not right now.

“Hey Mako.” You murmur, waiting until he looked at you to continue. “Can I have a kiss?”

There was a soft chuckle and Roadhog reached up to undo his mask, leaving it on the nightstand. You shifted to move closer to him and slid your arms around his neck. He had such a serious expression all the time. But you could see the warmth in his eyes. It was rare, just for you and Junkrat. You chased it, pressing your lips to his while his fingers wound themselves in your hair. Roadhog kissed you with a gradual intensity. The first soft and sweet, then growing in need and passion. Your lips came out bruised and blushing and biting at his until he kissed you again. 

Roadhog pulled you on top of him. You chuckled, licking across his bottom lip and earning yourself a low, graveled groan from his throat. He wrapped his other arm around you and held you close. His tongue pressed past your lips, drawing your breath out when he pulled away. Roadhog liked to look at your face when he kissed you. You loved the heavy lidded, intense expression he had when he was watching your expression. He tilted your head up and slowly, so slowly, grazed his teeth against your throat. You let a soft, content noise slip out and he paused, taking a second to bite down with the slightest bit of pressure. Roadhog seemed to like your noises as much as he liked your face.

“Mako.” You sigh contentedly. 

“Say my name again.” He replied, kissing his way back up your neck. 

You grin, meeting his lips with a quick kiss. “Make me.”

Roadhog softly chuckled, dragging your shirt up like he had all the time in the world. He slowly let his fingers drag across your back until he had to let you wiggle the rest of the way out. His hands were on you as you hastily folded your shirt, memorizing every surface of your skin. He makes you giggle as you try to put down your clothes. His touches are so soft they almost tickle. But then there’s that look in his eyes. Reverence and hunger. Roadhog pulls you towards him and kisses you like you’re water in the desert. You collapse into his kiss, let him hold you close, surround you. 

You only pull away because you’ve got plans. Plans that involve slowly sliding off him and off the bed. Plans that involve removing your pants, taking as much time as you possibly can. Roadhog doesn’t get impatient. He leans back and watches you with that calm, loving desire. He watches you fold your clothes on top of your shirt, watches you leisurely stroll to the drawer where all the supplies were kept, watches you pull things out and come back at such a achingly molasses pace. You wonder if you can exhaust his patience. You doubt you could, if Junkrat can’t no one can. Although maybe the two of you could figure something out together? Someday.

Roadhog had undressed while he was watching you, throwing his clothes aside as soon as you were close enough for him to gather into his arms. He lay you down beside him, touching each part of you like he was reliving the memory of the last time he touched you. Roadhog seemed to enjoy savoring his time, not that Junkrat didn’t enjoy it. Junkrat just preferred chasing noises and seeing the end result of his hard work. You fell somewhere in the middle. Taking your time was important, but you could be impatient. Sometimes.

“How do you want to do this?” Roadhog asked, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. So careful. You weren’t particularly, thrilled with having to, admit things. Pictures were one thing, and most of the time it wasn’t even you taking them. But… the talking. Weren’t a big fan of doing the talking. You did, because Roadhog didn’t want you uncomfortable with him, but it wasn’t your favorite situation. 

“Hmm…” Roadhog hummed in appreciation as he lay you down, stepping back to smile. You rolled your eyes, waving him forward.

“C’mon, before I get anxiety.”

“If you get anxiety we’ll just stop.”

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid.” Still, you relax at his promise. Safe. So safe. Even with his head between your legs making soft noises slip out of your mouth you felt so monumentally safe. He worked you until his name fell from your lips in a breathless gasp. Roadhog was thorough with the lube, taking his time while giving you the chance to catch your breath. 

“Ready?” Roadhog held your cheek, resting his forehead on yours. You waited a few more moments, letting your lungs calm down before nodding. You appreciated his slow pace, the way he kept returning for quick, small kisses, the way he kept his eyes centered on yours. He moved faster when you began to murmur his name, encouraging you to call it out louder. You were happy your room was on the other side of the wall. You were fairly sure there was soundproofing but. Better safe than horribly embarrassed.

“Mako…Mako…” You chanted, body tense under his grip. Roadhog growled your name back onto your lips as your mind blanked out from pleasure. You sighed into his kiss, enjoying the feel of his lips shifting over your face.

“I’m gonna ask you for kisses more often.” You muttered, earning you a soft chuckle.

There was a small click as the door unlocked. Junkrat’s voice called out from the other side.

“I hope both of ya are naked in there!”

He closed the door behind him, a wild grin splitting his face as he took the two of you in, “Dreams do come true. Room for one more?”

You rolled your eyes as Mako gently moved off of you, letting you wave an arm towards Junkrat. “Always.”


	37. Heroes

“Beep beep.”

“Yes Bastion, Beep.” You crouched behind the omnic in his turret form, directing your drones over the city. Reinhardt stood in front of both of you, his shield protecting both you and Bastion from any oncoming Talon operatives. It was strange that they were running such a large operation. Large enough to require multiple groups of Overwatch operatives to tackle it. You sat with your drones, searching for any civilians that needed help, as well as tracking the Talon groups when you found them. It was more drones than you were used to running, but you could handle it. You had to.

You could tell it bothered Reinhardt to stay still when there were people in trouble. But he wouldn’t leave your side, no matter how many times you suggested it. Bastion was more than enough protection as far as you were concerned. But you were Reinhardt’s comrade and he wasn’t going to leave you exposed. When you realized how much the ideal mattered you stopped asking and concentrated on your work.

You sent the data to Soldier 76 and Winston, both of whom worked together to direct the flow of combat. More often than not, 76 gave attack orders and Winston defense. Or civilian extraction. Civilians were directed towards three turret nests, you, Satya, and Torbjorn, until Tracer could safely escort them out of the danger area. Technically Reinhardt was in charge of the civilian defense. You were busy scouting and Bastion was busy protecting you. Or beeping at you. You’re pretty sure he was either singing or asking you questions, and you couldn’t tell which. It would be a good idea to learn his patterns sooner or later.

Having so much information felt like a double-edged sword. You knew that your friends were okay. Knew that your teammates were okay. But you also knew how many people were trying to kill them. You often saw when someone was injured and when they were healed. If you didn’t need to direct your drones you would be spinning your rings non stop. Bastion beeped at you again. He couldn’t look at you, exactly, while in turret mode. But you felt the attention on you regardless.

“Thank you.” You gently reached out, patting the omnic. He still gave you chills when you were this close. But you knew Bastion was trying his best. Like you.

One of your drones sounded off. The screen showed a small group of civilians, a few adults and a cluster of children, huddled in a store. The closest operative group was yours. You fidgeted, reporting the group to Winston. You were closest. Reinhardt couldn’t leave; Bastion needed him. You could leave, Winston had access to your drone footage even if he didn’t have controls.

“Winston, I’m going to go get them, my drones haven’t picked up any Talon operatives this close to Bastion. If you want, send someone our way.” You called into comms.

“I…Alright. Be careful.” Winston replied.

“Keep your head down. You’re a scout not a tank.” 76 came through, sounding annoyed that you were acting without consulting him. Although he could just not like you. The mask situation had you on both his shit list and his favorites list. You couldn’t tell. The man was an enigma. And an asshole. You related.

“Be right back. Protect Reinhardt, alright Bastion? No, no. I’ll be fine. You protect Reinhardt, okay?” You looked at Bastion, who beeped a confirmation and wiggled his little repair arm at you. It was sort of adorable in a mildly creepy way. You ran from cover to cover, following your map to your drone’s location. Your four combat drones began to fire as you turned the corner. Right at a face you really wish you weren’t seeing.

Moira. She dodged your drones, attempting to attack them with that purple beam of hers. You dropped behind a car, letting your drones do the lifting. At least that other fucker, Sombra, wasn’t nearby. You both hated her and wanted a look at her tech. It was complicated. With Moira you would just like very much for your drones to murder her. Or at least shoot off a limb or two. She could probably replace her arm as easily as you did.

“Come out, let’s have a talk.” Her voice echoed through the small street as she destroyed one of your drones.

“Nah Mate.” You directed one of your drones to blow up in her face. The shriek told you it was at least mildly successful. You needed to get her out of the picture. There wouldn’t be any escorting of citizens if she was sitting there being creepy. Her beam began to work through your hiding place, forcing you to dodge to another car. You sacrificed another drone to blow her back. 

You used your last drone to shield yourself while you deployed three new ones. You watched her dodging the shots while attempting to hit off a few of her beams. Her accuracy wasn’t surprising. You raised your shotgun, clipping her in the side when she got too close to you. She spun but you were already ordering one of your drones to explode and give you an escape. To your dismay she healed herself with a burst of yellow from her other hand. You were hoping this was a doable fight.

Your drones signaled an alarm. More Talon agents were headed this way. Likely to assist Moira. You had to end this quick. It was a gamble, but you ordered your drones onto her in a group explosion. You charged into the smoke shotgun at the ready.

And found nothing. 

A purple beam narrowly missed your head, smashing into a light pole beside you. You cursed, dropping and throwing yourself behind another car. You hastily tapped for new drones into your control panel. A purple ball hissed past you with a tendril that forced you out from behind cover. Moira chuckled and reached her arm towards you. A hook shot out and caught her in the shoulder, tearing her back and into the path of a concussion mine. You could hardly hear her shriek from the rush of relief you had at the sight of your Junkers. 

Moira slid out of their reach in a cloud of shadow. Her shoulder was torn open, and she had a nasty looking burn on her torso. She attempted to heal herself but your Junkers didn’t give her the chance. Roadhog hit her with his scattergun as Junkrat laughed and shot his grenades at her, blowing her through the railing and down to a lower area of the city. Your Junkers moved to go after her, and you were tempted to let them. The asshole deserved to get blown up. But, you were so close. And the Talon agents were closing in. 

People needed your help a lot more than you needed revenge. You ran to Junkrat, grabbing his arm and tugging him away from the destroyed railing.

“Oi what gives?” Junkrat frowned at you, looking at your hands on his arm.

“We gotta go, people need us. I know that ya want her dead, so do I but.” You paused and then kissed him, then pulled Roadhog’s harness until you were able to kiss his mask. 

“There are a lot more people to kill and a lot of people to save. They need us. Now.” You pointed in the direction of your still active survey drone. Your Junkers looked at each other and nodded. You sighed in relief, guiding them through the streets. They took care of the enemy operatives for the most part, though your drones took enough out to make things easier on them. You wiggled your way into the building where the crowd was hiring, giving your best smile. It was at that moment that you realized a stranger wearing a lot of leather and a metal arm accompanied by internationally wanted criminals wasn’t the most comforting thing to see when your city was being shot up. 

“Hey…Listen I know me and my mates are a bit scary but. We’re here to protect ya. And don’t ya want the scarier people on your side? Um. C’mon. Follow me, we’ll get ya out of here.” You manage to get the group of civilians to follow you out. They eyed your Junkers nervously, flinching when Junkrat gave them a little cackle. He quickly returned to blowing up your enemies which didn’t help make them less afraid. It took some coaxing to get the frightened crowd to let your Junkers cover their exit.

Your drones took the lead, advancing ahead of the group to shoot down any enemies you find while you walk your group back towards your turret nest. Or, Bastion nest. Luckily your Junkers attracted most of the attention and allowed you to slip through mostly unnoticed. You tensed every time your Junkers lagged behind to fight and relaxed every time they returned. This was. Stressful.

The civilians seemed to be more than willing to accept the bastion unit guarding the small entrance to a store’s basement area if it meant safety. They were greeted by other civilians and a notice from Tracer that she was on her way.

One of the parents paused before going in and smiled at you and your Junkers. “The news must be wrong about, you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

You raised your eyebrow at your confused looking lovers, giving them a small smile. “Looks like the public might start seein’ my boys as heroes. Interestin’.” 

Junkrat grinned. “As long as ya do, darl’.”

“I think that’s how I’ve always seen ya Jame.” You smiled and then pretended to scowl. “Enough of that. Job’s not over yet. Stop that grinnin’ at me. No no kissin’ on the scene you’re ruinin’ my image. Stop laughin’ Reinhardt.”

“Are you really making out on the job.” 76 grumbled into your earpiece.

“Depends, will it make ya mad.” You raised your eyebrows at Junkrat, who gave you a conspiratory wiggle.

“Get back to work! Where are the last of the enemy?”

“When we get back to base then, loves.” You winked at your Junkers, opening your control panel.

“We got a group of five at your 8, Soldier.”


	38. Hail to a Brand New World

“A lot of new people lately.” You muttered, joining your friends for some tea. Overwatch had begun to gain recruits, those that could work in a certain region as opposed to the stretched thin global force your little group was.

“Some of them may have skill,” Hanzo replied, pouring honey into his tea. His love for sweets almost outmatched yours, which was impressive. You fucking loved honey.

“I think one of the new recruits uses a crossbow.” You mused, stirring your tea. Hanzo made a face over his cup.

“I know the one. He lacks discipline” He took a drink, scowling at the small group of recruits actively avoiding your table.

“Is it the one that lacks manners as well?” Satya asked from your other side, offering you a cookie.

You took it with a nod. “Of course it is.”

The three of you shared a disdainful look and a soft sigh. You had gained a reputation amongst the newest members of Overwatch as a helpful if not prickly individual. Great for repairing gear or on a mission. Not great for casual conversation. Or any conversation. You did not want them to talk to you. Hanzo and Satya were in roughly the same situation. The Snot Squad rode together. And then fucking Zenyatta showed up and ruined the whole image. You loved your kind, gentle monk friend. Even if he usually had a nervous looking recruit trailing after him. Although today’s recruit doesn’t seem that nervous. A new omnic, bright green. 

“Good Morning, my friends. This is Orisa. Orisa, these are more of our companions. Hanzo is a skilled archer. Satya is a fantastic architect. Pinion is just sort of angry.” Zenyatta motioned to each of you. You twisted your face into a quick, silent snarl but failed to stop the soft smile that pushed at the corner of your lips.

“I joke. Pinion is a master mechanic and engineer.” Zenyatta chuckled. You took a drink of your tea, determined to ignore the newcomer. Five friends was enough. Six if you counted Engineer Dad. Which you, personally, didn’t. He was Engineer Dad. You can’t be friends with your strange adoptive parents. It’s weird. You can, however, be friends with your strange adoptive siblings. But that’s a different category.

“It is lovely to meet you! I am tasked with guarding Numbani, but I am glad to work alongside all of you when you are there.” Orisa’s eyes gave a cute little emote, making you smile back in return. Of course she was adorable. Damnit. What did you just say about a sixth friend.

“It is good to meet you as well. Please send my regards to Ms. Oladele. You are quite amazingly designed.” Satya commented with a pleasant smile. 

“Thank you, I will be sure to let Efi know.” Orisa repeated her emote. It seemed like Orisa was going to be the Overwatch agent for Numbani. It was a large, important city. Giving Orisa your back up would help support the culture they’d built there. You didn’t know when the safety of omnics became so important to you, but it was. If someone threatened Zenyatta they would find themselves getting shredded by drone fire. Jury was still out on Bastion. You couldn’t decide if he was cute or horrifying. Or horrifyingly cute.

“If this Efi built you she’s probably got something interesting to say.” You muse.

“If you’d like, I’m sure she would be willing to chat with you over a call. Or you could visit Numbani, it is a lovely city.” Orisa offered. You stared blankly at her for a few moments before nodding slowly.

“A call is best, with advanced notice. I’m not...sociable.”

“I think I’d like to join in that conversation with you. It should be enlightening.” Satya smiled. You felt a wisp of relief and smiled back. A quiet offer to be there so you didn’t have to engage with a new person alone. You were so lucky to have your friends. Especially ones who understood the problems with new people and crowds and crowds of new people. You flicked at the dangling rings Satya made for you. You would enjoy a conversation with Efi. Though you couldn’t put an ai in your drones, the idea made you shiver, you could certainly build, a different system. Like Snowball, but less eager to beep at you constantly. Or fly around you. Did the world need more omnic like presences? 

You glanced between Orisa and Zenyatta, taking a drink of your tea. Perhaps it did.

“Oh most certainly. I will have Winston send you a message. How exciting, Efi will enjoy talking to another inventor.” Orisa seemed pleased. 

“Orisa was going to visit Bastion before she returned back to Numbani. Would you escort her there, Pinion?” Zenyatta asked. You nodded, rinsing out your teacup before guiding Orisa through the hallways. The base was a lot more alive. Even these short walks made your skin being to prickle with discomfort. Crowds were, not the best. During a mission you were sufficiently distracted with the grand idea of not being shot in the face but just walking around…

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay with eyes being on you for too long. But that was okay. You didn’t necessarily have to be. You had your small group of friends, you had your team, you had your lovers. You were doing good things and helping people. That was, that was okay.

“This is the Engineering wing. For most, it’s where they get their gear repaired, but I suspect that your Efi can handle any repairs you need.” You remark. Bastion is standing in the center of the open area between the workshops, playing with his bird.

“This is Bastion. Bastion, this is Orisa.” You introduce them, stepping back while Bastion vibrantly chirps and then waves his hand at the bird.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Archimedes.” Orisa waves at the bird, earning more beeps from Bastion. The two omnics immediately connected. It was nice. Bastion needed some friends besides Torbjorn and Lucio. You and D.va were, somewhat acquainted with him, but neither of you could quite get over the unsettling nature of his turret form. Perhaps someday you would. Until then, you worked with him at least. That was a step forward.

“I’ll be in my workshop if you need me, both of you. Also, don’t go into this shop here. You will be blown up.” You motion to Junkrat’s workshop. Orisa nods in understanding and you slip into your space. It hasn’t been cleaned in a week. You’ve been slacking. It’s relaxing to lose yourself into the familiar steps of cleaning, polishing, sterilizing. You slip into the storage room when you’re done and give that a tidying too. Everything is in its place. Lovely.

As you return to your workshop, you notice messages waiting for you on your holodesk.

“Good work on the visor. Solid upgrades. Can I get a backup? -Morrison.” 76 had been revealed to be the long thought dead Jack Morrison a few weeks ago. He still got, aggravated, when anyone referred to him as anything but a variation of 76. You understood. At least he liked the redesign of his visor, apparently enough to use his name when messaging you. Or Ana’s the one that sent it. Either way, you added it to your work queue.

The other messages have you bolting out of the engineering wing and heading straight for the dorms. Fucking Junkrat and his Fucking Pictures. This is why you should have never gotten a phone. It wasn’t like you or Roadhog weren’t readily available. He just had to send pictures. Although to be fair. It was either your phone or Roadhog’s phone. Perhaps one of you should, just stop giving him the phone. That would be an option.

You round the corner into the dorms, nearly throwing yourself through your Junkers’ door as soon as it opens. They’re both naked, with Junkrat eagerly lapping at Roadhog, pausing only to give you a cheeky wink.

“Care to join us?”

You laugh, taking off your clothes and leaving them carefully folded on the only surface in the room that isn’t covered in scrap metal and soot. You slide in next to Junkrat, trying unsuccessfully to get him to slow down as to tease Roadhog. When that failed you just embraced the enthusiasm. 

Sex with both of them felt like chaos. Wonderful, hilarious chaos. You’re pretty sure you elbowed Junkrat in the face half a dozen times. When he tried to bite you in retaliation it backfired; you would moan and squirm and that would just get him excited. Hands were everywhere on everyone, a sweaty mess that you tolerated only in the heat of the moment. Only because you loved it in that moment. Loved being with them, surrounded and loved. Your violent, criminal heroes.

You rolled off of Junkrat, smirking at the blissed-out expression he had. Talk about ‘who’s on top now’. You kissed his face, wiggling your eyebrows at the heavily breathing Roadhog. Junkrat was right. You did like it most when he was watching. Or better yet, when his hands were on you.

“Agent Pinion, Winston needs you to make some urgent repairs to one of the planes. We need agents on the ground in a few hours.” Athena’s voice echoed overhead. You cast an annoyed look at the ceiling and then a longing look towards Roadhog.

“Go on darl’. I’ll take care of Roadie. Jus’ give me a second. Ya took me for a real ride.” Junkrat wheezed. You waited for a confirming nod from Roadhog before giving them both a quick, loving kiss.

“Sorry, I’ll make it up to ya both when the repairs are done.” You ran into their shower, scrubbing yourself clean enough to be presentable. You paused before you went out the door.

“I love you Jamison. I love you Mako.”

Roadhog smiled, his intense eyes showing a rare softness. “Love you.”

“Yeah, love ya Pins!” Junkrat blew you a sloppy, spit-flecked kiss that made you snort.

The world is a mess. At least, the world outside your workshop is a mess. Wars, Chaos, Nightmares. Behind you is a land steeped in chemicals and poison. Behind you is a city that’s a mismatch of rusted metal and duct tape. Your workshop is pristine. The shelves all neatly organized, there is not a single thing out of place. There is no dirt. It’s been scrubbed away.

You live an interesting life. You are constantly seeing new things, doing new things. And a lot of those things you Hate. But you aren’t doing them alone. Your organization, your team, your family, helps you every step of the way. Because they care for you. Even if the world doesn’t, they do. So you build for them. You do a little bit of everything. Prosthetics, weapons, utility items, field gear. Anything.

You’re working on yourself right now. Learning to be sturdy. Open-minded. Self-Balancing. Whoever tries to knock you over will have a hard time of it. Because you’re not alone. You were alone for so long and never realized how much it hurt. But not anymore. You’re surrounded and in a way. That’s okay. 

The world is a mess. But you and Overwatch. You’re going to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry. I'm so glad that you all seemed to enjoy this so much. If this made you feel smart and capable and loved than I am so, so very happy. Thank you for taking so much time to leave me comments, and talk with me about the story. <3 <3
> 
> My next major fic will be a Reaper x Reader. I'm still continuing Sands of Time. If you want drabbles or updates, I'm on tumblr at the same name, digitalspectre. If you want drabbles about Pinion or any other reader x drabbles, feel free to leave me an ask. If you ask for a specific prompt, I don't have to outline a drabble. Yay : D <3


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